Five of a Kind
by Tyranusfan
Summary: AU after 5x22 Swan Song. Four months in Mexico have helped Dean, Sam, and Adam heal, but the hunting world is never far behind. Sequel to Haunted.
1. Chapter 1

**Five of a Kind**

A/N: _This is a sequel to "Haunted," and was printed in Jeanne Gold's 2012 fanzine Blood Brothers 6. _

_As with Haunted, it goes AU from Swan Song, where Sam and Adam are mysteriously rescued from Lucifer's Cage, and the boys take Adam under their wing as a hunter. _

_This story picks up some four months after the first story._

_Special thanks to Jeanne, K Hanna Korossy, geminigrl11 and Phx, who all had a part in reading/editing._

**SPN SPN SPN**

_Granada Hills, California_

"Just one more," Stephie Gavilan gritted out between panting breaths. "You can do it."

She was on the last lap of her five-mile run and was almost out of steam, but this year was going to be different. Stephie had always talked about running the L.A. Marathon, but for the past four years had dropped out at the last minute. There were always excuses—work, emergencies, allergies—but that's all they were: excuses.

_This year's going to be different_.

Stephie turned the corner along the road that looped around the southeast corner of O'Melveny Park, and started her southbound lap. It was already after sunset, but it was still light enough for her to find her car. The air was warm but not too humid, and a breeze was blowing in from the ocean, perfect running weather in Stephie's opinion.

She raised her left arm to get a look at her watch, but did a double take when she saw movement along the tree line near the road. There were five men standing just a few dozen feet from where she was running…just _standing_ there, looking in her direction.

An uncomfortable chill of fear gripped Stephie when she realized the men were watching her. With growing alarm, she put on some more speed, her earlier exhaustion forgotten. It was getting darker, and she certainly didn't want to be confronted by five strangers in the middle of the park.

The sound of her footfalls pounding the pavement and her heavy breathing filled her ears as her run became a sprint. Stephie wasn't sure why she was suddenly so afraid, but something was wrong. She could sense it. Her car was parked at the far end of the road, beneath a street light. It seemed impossibly far away, even though she was moving quickly and was fast approaching it.

Stephie risked a glance over her shoulder. The five men were standing in the road now, facing her from a mere hundred feet away. How had they gotten so close? A surge of adrenaline pushed her faster, and she bolted for the parked car, now just yards away.

She practically collided with the driver's side door as she careened to a stop and fished frantically for her keys. The sound of heavy—unusually heavy, part of her realized—footsteps from behind caused her to freeze. Her fingers slid around the cool cylinder of pepper spray attached to her keychain.

Pulling the cylinder into her hand, Stephie turned to face her potential attackers. With luck, the pepper spray would buy her a few seconds to get into her car and escape. As the footsteps stopped, she spun on her heel, bringing the mace up.

She barely had time to scream as flames engulfed her.

**SPN SPN SPN**

_Sioux Falls, South Dakota_

_The Next Day_

Some days, Bobby couldn't believe the Apocalypse was over.

Sure, he remembered that it had been averted, nearly fifteen months earlier; he'd been there for most of the confrontation between Dean, Michael and Lucifer. It was just that some days, it seemed too good to be true.

And then there were days like this one.

"You gonna sit on your ass all day, Singer?"

Bobby sighed heavily, lowering his newspaper long enough to glare across the study at Rufus Turner, who was arching an annoyed eyebrow from his wheelchair near the phone bank. He tried not to get too irritated with the other hunter, who had, after all, broken his leg helping Bobby wiggle out of his deal with Crowley. Bobby owed him—again.

But, had Bobby known that Rufus would spend his recovery under _his_ roof…well, Hell was starting to sound like the lesser evil. Nonetheless, he did owe the man, so he didn't say that out loud.

"No. I'm not."

"Looks like you are," Rufus persisted. "This is why you're getting fat, old man."

Bobby slammed the paper down on his lap and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Rufus, this is the first day in a month that those phones aren't ringing. It's the first week in _six_ months that I haven't been involved in a hunt. All I want is to sit here, read the paper, drink some coffee and _relax_."

The dark-skinned man held up his hands in surrender. "Hey, fine. You want to sit around and grow old, don't let me stop you."

"Thank you," Bobby snarled back, lifting the newspaper. Just as he resumed the article about Sheriff Mills' big drug bust, one of the phones rang. Bobby groaned, letting his head drop against the chair back. "Balls."

He moved to get up, but Rufus waved him back. "Oh, no. Allow me, Bobby. This is your day off."

Bobby considered getting up just to spite the man, but Rufus was already lifting the receiver on the yellow phone, which Dean Winchester had snarkily labeled "Hunter's Help Desk" a few months back when he and Sam had color coded and labeled all six phones.

"Y'hello?" Rufus answered with uncharacteristic cheerfulness. "Who? Arthur Kandinsky? Wait, Arthur Kandinsky from Phoenix? You're still alive?" Rufus looked up at Bobby. "Hey, Bobby, it's Arthur Kandinsky."

"He's still alive?" Bobby asked, standing and moving into the study. "I can't believe it."

Rufus hit the speakerphone button and placed the phone on the table so Bobby could join the conversation.

"_You know I can hear you guys, right?_" Kandinsky asked.

"Hearing was never your problem, Arthur, it was _listening_," Rufus replied with a snort.

"His eyesight was never that great, either," Bobby added.

"_I misread one ammonia bottle and you two hold it over my head for the rest of my life_."

"Yeah, you misread a bottle, and I got my eyebrows singed off," Bobby griped.

Rufus nodded sagely. "Which leads us back to: 'my God, Arthur, you're still alive!'"

"_As fun as the trip down memory lane with you two _old_ guys has been_," Arthur grumbled, "_I actually called for a reason_."

Bobby frowned at the jibe, but didn't retort. "What do you need?"

"_I got a case I think should be looked into_."

"So?" Rufus interrupted. "Look into it."

"_I can't, that's why I'm calling you!_" Kandinsky snapped angrily. "_Jesus! I don't know why I even_—"

"All right, all right, Arthur. Calm down." Bobby cut off the indignant tirade. Arthur was a fellow hunter, even if he was a clumsy idiot. Bobby lifted the phone receiver before Rufus could say whatever was clearly about to come out of his mouth. "What d'ya got?"

"_Over the past month, three people have been found dead in northern Los Angeles. The bodies were torn apart, eaten. For the moment, they've all been written off as wild animal attacks, a pack of coyotes supposedly_."

Bobby frowned. "In an urban area? Any witnesses?"

"_Not a one. But that's not the weirdest part, either. I have a friend in the coroner's office, and he said that a few of the…parts, I guess, were roasted, like someone took a flame thrower to them. I don't know of any _coyote_ that can do that, outside of cartoons_."

"Mmm." Bobby nodded, realizing belatedly that Kandinsky couldn't see him. "Well, okay. That definitely sounds like a case, but why can't you look into it?"

Kandinsky hesitated. "_I, um…well, I sorta can't enter the state of California right now. For a while, at least._."

Bobby's face fell. "And why not?"

"_I'm wanted for a few things. Minor legal stuff_."

"Such as…?"

"_Um, well, gun-running…fraud…kidnapping_—"

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Oh, for Heaven's—"

"—_and murder_."

"Murder?!"

"_It wasn't my fault!_ _I was hunting a shapeshifter in Riverside County…and it was mimicking the sheriff when I caught up with it…and I sorta, kinda, got caught on video putting it down_."

Bobby snorted. "I honestly don't know how you're still alive, Arthur, let alone walking around free." Before the forlorn hunter could reply, Bobby continued, "Look, Rufus and I will see what we can do. I'll be in touch."

Rufus was smirking at him when Bobby hung up the receiver. "Murder, huh?"

"Believe it or not," Bobby said, shaking his head. "He said there are three people dead in L.A., roasted and torn to bits all in the last few weeks. Locals are calling it an animal attack."

"Heard that one before," Rufus replied, shifting uncomfortably in his wheelchair. "So, when are we leaving?"

"We?"

Rufus blinked at him. "Isn't that why Arthur called?"

"We aren't going anywhere. You're in no condition to take on some monster, and I'm not gonna leave you here all by yourself."

Rufus sat up straighter. "I don't need you nursemaiding me, Singer."

Bobby looked at him askance. That was definitely not true. Rufus had faceplanted more than once trying to get up and down the stairs to the bedrooms. His leg was no where close to being healed, though Bobby suspected that was the last thing Rufus wanted to hear. "Who's talking about a nursemaid? I just don't want to leave you here breakin' all my stuff!"

Rufus harrumphed but didn't argue. "So? What are you gonna do?"

"I guess I'm gonna find another hunter near the West coast to check out Arthur's story."

"Who?" Rufus exclaimed. "Lot of us bought it in the Apocalypse. The hunting community's spread thin out there."

Bobby's shoulders slumped. His annoying friend and former partner was right. "I dunno, Rufus. I'll make some calls. Maybe we'll get lucky."

**SPN SPN SPN**

_Rosarito, Baja California_

Adam Milligan could count on one hand the number of times any of their phones had rung in the past three months. When he heard Bobby's faint ringtone coming from somewhere on the patio, he happily disengaged himself from Dean's unnecessarily complex, unfairly scored, and surprisingly physical game of non-contact flag football, which between Dean's random point deductions and Sam's increasingly aggravated protests was becoming more and more _contact_ every minute.

It took a moment for Adam's eyes to adjust from the blinding white beach sand to the relative shade of the patio awning, and he groped blindly along the remains of their lunch, following the sound to the cell.

He, Sam, and Dean had been in Baja for more than four months now, following their near-disastrous ghost hunt-turned crazy demon cult battle in North Carolina. Dean had suggested they get away for a while, so the three of them could get their heads screwed on right; Sam and Adam because of their trauma of being trapped in Lucifer's cage, and Dean to escape his falling out with Lisa and his ruined attempt at a normal life.

Adam had been skeptical at first. Someone didn't just "get over" Hell—especially the deep, dark, frigid depths where he and Sam had been locked up with two furious archangels—but with only one hunt under his belt, he couldn't exactly keep going without his brothers.

As had quickly become apparent to him, he wouldn't have wanted to anyway. Adam had grown close with Sam during the six months they'd spent down under, and after a rocky start he had formed a strong connection with Dean, too. Trying to go on without them would have been foolish, and lonely. They were the only family he had anymore. In the end, he'd been happy they'd gone on this "family vacation." They'd seen the Grand Canyon, had a blast in Tijuana, and spent the last four months at the beach house of someone named Mike, who Dean had said used to know their dad.

It was almost enough to make him forget Michael and Lucifer. Almost.

Finally, just before the last strains of _The Gambler_ ringtone ended, Adam's fingers closed around the casing of Sam's phone. He hit Talk and just barely remembered Dean's current instructions for answering. "Ghostbusters, what'dya want?"

_That's how a dead man answers a dead fugitive's phone, little bro, remember that even when you recognize the number_.

Bobby Singer's surly voice greeted his ears. "_Cute. You're becoming more like your oldest brother every day._"

Adam grinned. "Thanks, Bobby."

"_It wasn't a compliment_," Bobby shot back, but Adam could hear the smirk in the other man's voice. "_Where is your bad influence, anyway?_"

A yelp and an "oof!" behind Adam caused him to turn his head just in time to see the football go bouncing along the patio and into some shrubs. "Um, we're just finishing up a friendly game of beach football."

"_Who's winning?_"

Another yelp and some flying sand drew Adam's eyes from the ball toward the beach. "Uh, well, I'll have to see who's left standing."

"_Well, do that and call me back, will ya? I, uh…I want to run something past you boys, get your opinions_."

Adam's attention was drawn by another round of shouting and more flying sand.

"Contact penalty! Ten points for Team Dean!"

"Like hell! _You_ pushed _me_!"

Turning back to the phone, Adam rolled his eyes. He was glad he'd left the beach,. "Will do, Bobby. We'll be in touch."

**SPN SPN SPN**

Sam sighed as he finished setting up the video conference with Bobby and Rufus on his laptop. He was exhausted, and it was only mid-day. He leaned back on the couch and propped his feet on the coffee table while he waited for Dean to arrive and Adam to finish making lunch.

The past few months had done all three of them a lot of good—far more than Sam could have expected when he'd agreed to Dean's getting-away-from-it-all idea. When they'd started on their bona fide road trip—no hunting, just traveling—all three of them had needed an escape. Sam and Adam had been out of Lucifer's cage for months, but still very much prisoners of it. Both were prone to flashbacks, non-alcohol induced sleep eluded them. Dean's relationship with Lisa—his attempt at normalcy—had burned to cinders the moment Sam and Adam reappeared on his doorstep. There was too much baggage. Hunting and "normal" didn't mix.

Their precarious mental and emotional states had almost derailed a seemingly run-of-the-mill poltergeist in North Carolina, cost the life of a man they had been trying to help, and almost resulted in them all being demon food.

Afterwards, at Dean's suggestion, they'd told Bobby they were dropping off the grid for a while. They needed to get their heads screwed on straight, and constantly running from town to town, hunting monsters while dodging vengeful angels and angry demons was no way to do it. Not if they wanted to live through the experience…and they did.

For the first time in a long time, Sam realized that they had something to protect. He'd paid his proverbial debts many times over with more than half a century with Lucifer. Dean had his family—his original family—back, and they both now had another brother to look after. It had just been the two of them for so long that they'd forgotten what it was like to have an almost normal family unit. It wasn't nuclear, but it was more than they had had since their dad died.

Sam blinked out of his reverie as the family in question came into his field of vision. Adam padded barefoot into the den from the kitchen, three plates balanced precariously in his hands. The youngest Winchester—in spirit if not name—had turned out to be a fair cook. Adam's food was far better than Sam's spaghetti and Dean's microwaved hot dogs.

Adam reached the coffee table and placed the plates down around the open laptop. He had a ham sandwich on a hoagie roll, which threatened to fly open from all the toppings that were stuffed into it. Sam's turkey club was similarly stacked. Dean's roast beef sub was…thinner.

"We need to make a food run sometime," Adam said, dropping into the wicker loveseat that flanked the couch. "This is the last of the ham, the turkey, _and_ the roast beef. Where's Dean?"

As if on cue, Dean entered from the direction of the bedrooms, walking unusually slowly and making an obvious effort to keep his back straight. "Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow, ow, ow." He reached the couch and dropped down beside Sam. "OW!"

Sam tilted his head back and observed the patches of angry red skin along his oldest brother's back, peeking through sloppily applied white cream. He shook his head. "I told you to wear sunscreen."

Dean grimaced as he settled in, trying to find a comfortable position against the cushions. "Hey, Adam? Remind me to beat that smug out of him as soon as I heal, okay?"

Adam was busily chewing, so he just nodded and gave Dean a thumb's up.

Sam rolled his eyes. "We ready?"

Getting mumbled affirmatives from his siblings, Sam hit the call button and waited for the laptop to connect to Sioux Falls. As the digitized dial tone started up, Dean grunted, looking up from his sandwich and grimacing in Adam's direction.

"Hey, where are my tomatoes?"

Adam shrugged, but kept chewing. "'er all ou'."

Dean wasn't so easily deflected. "You've got tomatoes on your sandwich."

Adam nodded. From his expression, he clearly expected Dean to understand. He swallowed, then cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. We ran out after I made mine."

Sam glanced between them as Adam resumed eating and Dean began grumbling under his breath about little brothers and his lack of adequate nutrients. Before Sam could say anything about it, Bobby's image popped up on the laptop screen. Well, Bobby's mouth and chin anyway.

"_Sam?_"

"Bobby?" Sam smirked. "Uh, Bobby, lift your webcam a little."

"_What? Oh._"

Rufus' voice filtered through in the background. "_I told you_—"

"_Shut up! How's this Sam?_" The rest of Bobby's face came into view in the chat window after a few long seconds of a dark, blurry palm. Rufus was seated behind him, just barely in the frame.

Sam smiled. "There we go." After some pleasant catching up, Sam settled his elbows on his knees. "So, what is it you wanted our opinion about?"

The laptop screen spun around abruptly as Dean's arm crossed in front of Sam's face, angling for Adam's plate.

"Oh, my God! Fine! Here!" Adam's arm moved in front of the screen and deposited two large slices of tomato onto Dean's plate.

"Thank you!"

Bobby frowned. "_What was that?_"

Sam looked between the two overgrown children he called siblings and shook his head as he readjusted the computer. "Nothing. Go on. You were saying?"

"_Well, I got a call from Arthur Kandinsky this morning_."

"He's still alive?" Dean asked around a large clump of roast beef.

"_That's what I asked_," Rufus intoned from behind Bobby.

Bobby shrugged. "_He's got a case out in L.A. that he thinks should be looked into, but he can't enter the state. Don't ask why_."

Sam grinned. Knowing Arthur, he was probably wanted for murder again. He could sympathize, as he and Dean had had their share of similar troubles, but Arthur seemed to keep getting into those messes again and again.

Bobby didn't waste anymore time on the subject.

"_Anyway, three people have turned up dead on the north side of L.A., near Santa Clarita, all within a few miles of each other. All of them were torn apart, looked like they were eaten by some wild animal, except they were also cooked. I just checked the net, and a fourth was reported in __O'Melveny Park last night_."

"That is weird," Dean commented between bites.

"Cool!" Adam exclaimed. At the odd looks his brothers shot him, he amended, "Well, not _cool_. I mean it's…you know, interesting."

Sam ignored Adam's misplaced enthusiasm, and instead stated the obvious, just to get it out of the way. "Well, a wild animal doesn't cook its food."

On the screen, Bobby nodded. "_Yeah, that's what we figured, too_."

"Demons have been known to burn people," Dean said almost casually, but a shadow crossed his face. None of them had good histories with fire. Dean shook his head. "But, I don't think they _eat_ them."

"If it's some kind of monster," Adam joined in the discussion, "then it's pretty brazen to hunt down people so close to a huge city like L.A."

"_The burning of the bodies doesn't quite add up, either_," Rufus chimed in.

Sam glanced at each of them as the conversation went on, eyes narrowing. Something wasn't adding up, all right, and not just with the case in Los Angeles. "Bobby? Why are you telling _us_ about this?"

He saw Dean and Adam both look at him oddly. The question hadn't occurred to them, it seemed.

Bobby frowned, and looked uncomfortable. "_Um, well…Arthur can't go—because of his situation—and Rufus is laid up because of his leg_…."

"Mm-hmm." Sam nodded, suspicion growing as to what was coming next.

"_And, I know you boys are, uh, on 'sabbatical' and everything_—"

Rufus nudged his way into view of the webcam. "_Oh, spit it out, Bobby, they aren't children. We were gonna ask you three to check this out. You're only a few hours away from L.A_.."

Sam bit his lip and glanced up at his brothers. Adam looked excited. He was still gung-ho about hunting, and that enthusiasm had only been bolstered by the relative success of his first hunt back in North Carolina earlier that year.

_He's young_, as Dean had put it a while back.

Dean, on the other hand, was sporting an expression that Sam figured wasn't too different from his own: ambivalent. They'd spent four months tucked away in this quiet corner of Baja, working through their various issues and, together, they had a lot of issues. _Big_ issues. Sam hadn't asked, but he knew Dean hadn't volunteered any thoughts about a return to hunting, and Sam…was okay with that. Adam, though—

"_Look, boys_," Bobby continued, elbowing Rufus out of the way, "_I know you wanted to stay off the grid for a while, and believe me, I know you deserved the rest, but…people are dying. You guys are the only hunters close-by that we know of, and all the L.A.P.D. will know to do is send in animal control_."

Dean sighed. "Bobby, are you sure there's nobody else nearby?"

"_I called everyone I know of, but they're all busy with their own hunts right now_."

Dean frowned, glancing back at Sam with a minute shrug. "All right. We'll see what we can find out. Email us anything else you got."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**SPN SPN SPN**

Adam packed his duffel quickly, excited to be getting back to hunting again.

His first official hunt had been a disaster—very nearly a fatal one—but he could still feel the thrill. Granted part of that thrill had involved being chased by a bloodthirsty demonic monster, an insane ghost, and a resulting concussion, but Adam didn't care. He had a real hunt under his belt, and the proverbial scars to prove it.

He idly wondered if his dad would be proud. John Winchester had kept Adam away from all of it, hoping that anonymity would keep him and his mom safe. Adam couldn't help but think that if John had trained him the way he'd trained Sam and Dean, maybe the ghouls that had come after them wouldn't have succeeded.

Adam shook his head. All of that was ancient history. Casting a final look around the bedroom to make sure he had everything, he zipped the duffel and headed out the door.

He hoped his brothers were as jazzed as he was about the new case.

**SPN SPN SPN**

Dean heaved the weapons bag into the trunk, and began distributing its contents into the proper places in the hidden compartment. Sam was beside him, packing the salt and holy water in with the various talismans and journals. At the rate packing was going, they wouldn't reach L.A. until almost nightfall. Probably too late to visit the coroner's office, but maybe they could scope out the crime scenes before turning in for the night.

One more restful day might be just what his sunburn needed, anyway.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean noticed that Sam had stopped moving. Glancing over, he saw his younger sibling staring at the ocean, and followed his gaze. The tide was coming in, and had already obliterated all traces of their earlier football game. He looked back at Sam, and the thousand yard stare.

"I can hear you thinking, Sammy."

After a long moment, Sam blinked and turned to face him. "Hmm? Oh. Yeah."

Dean went back to packing. "What?"

Sam shrugged, but went back to his work as well. "I'm gonna miss this place."

Dean smiled. "Heh. Me, too."

More than ever, Dean was glad they'd taken their vacation. His brothers had learned to cope, as best anyone could, with their experiences in the Cage, and Dean felt better than he had in years. He'd even managed to re-establish contact with Lisa and Ben. It was just the occasional text message for the moment, but it was a far cry from the way they'd left things the previous year. They'd never go back to their living arrangement, but irregularly regular contact was something.

Ultimately, she'd been there when Dean had needed her most, but once his true family had returned…. _Hunting and normal don't mix_. He and Sam had both learned that the hard way.

"Dean…" Sam spoke again, interrupting Dean's thoughts. "Are you sure we wanna—? I mean—"

Dean knew the rest of the unspoken question. _Do we want to start hunting again?_ It was a question he'd been asking himself over and over ever since they'd told Bobby they would look into this case. Truth was, he didn't have an answer.

"I...don't know, man. Honest."

Adam came out of the house and locked the door, then jogged toward the car.

Dean smirked. "_He_ seems sure."

Sam shot him a sideways glance. "He's young. And new at this. It's _adventure_ for him."

Dean glanced at his brother, noting how much older than twenty-eight he looked around the eyes. "Don't let him hear you talk like that. He's already running faster than you."

"Because I let him," Sam huffed, but smiled faintly at Dean's attempt to lighten his mood.

"Besides," Dean continued, cutting his eyes toward Adam as the younger man approached. "He might have a different last name, but he's still a Winchester. If we try to back out of this, he'll probably decide to do it by himself."

Sam snorted. "Yeah. I get that. I guess I've just gotten used to…you know. This."

Dean sighed. He still didn't have an answer. He zipped the empty duffel and stowed it against the spare tire. "Well, maybe we'll luck out, Sammy. We'll get up there and find out it's some mutant coyote with opposable thumbs that likes hot food."

Sam raised an eyebrow at that.

"Hey, it wouldn't be the weirdest thing we've ever run across."

Sam cocked his head and mimicked deep thought. "True."

Closing the lid to the weapons compartment as Adam closed in, Dean spoke more quietly. "Hey, let's just take care of this, then we can decide what we want to do. One thing at a time."

Sam considered him for a moment, then relented. "Yeah. Okay."

"You guys all set?" Adam asked as he joined them and dropped his bags into the trunk.

Dean shared a brief look with Sam, then put on his game face. "I think so."

**SPN SPN SPN**

_O'Melveny Park, California_

Dean slept away the three and a half hour drive to L.A., letting Sam handle the trip while he rested his still-stinging sunburn in the back seat. He awoke as Sam guided the Impala into the Granada Hills area, toward the spot where the latest victim had been found. After a quick look around, they would get a motel, then visit the coroner in the morning and see what they could find.

The victim had apparently been trying to reach a parked car, in a dark, isolated lot along the park road. The driver's side of the car was blackened, along with the asphalt and some of the nearby grass, as though someone had lit a bonfire.

"Creepy." Adam mused, stepping carefully over a strand of crime-scene tape. The car had been left there, booted to keep anyone from stealing it before the police could return. No cops were nearby, though, which was good for the Winchesters.

"Like a fireball hit it," Sam said, taking a close look at the charred side of the car. "Spontaneous combustion, maybe?"

"That really happens?" Adam asked, looking at Sam askance.

"There are spells," Dean answered, picking his way around the perimeter. "A witch, maybe. They'd know a spell for that."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Sam murmured, reaching into his pocket. He withdrew his lock pick set. "I'll check for a hex bag."

"Well, if it turns out to be a witch, let's be extra careful with the car and the room." Dean said, moving along the edge of the road. "I don't want to burst into flames. Me or my baby."

Sam shot him a look. "Or your _brothers_."

Dean shrugged. "Meh."

"Nice," Adam shook his head while taking photos of the scene with his phone. "We rank below the car, Sam."

"And the cassette tapes, probably." Sam offered, then went back to searching the interior of the car.

Dean scanned the ground around the burned grass. If it was a witch, he or she probably didn't need to be nearby for the hex to kill, but there still might be something left to put them on the right track.

He walked a few feet further, past the line of scorched earth. Dean was about to turn around when something caught his eye. Turning back, he walked a few more feet, and stopped. There was a depression in the dirt. The shadowy ground almost concealed it. "What the—?"

It was a footprint. A big one. And not human.

"Hey, guys, check this out."

Sam extracted himself from the front seat of the car and stepped over just as Adam came around from the other side. They followed Dean's flashlight to the footprint.

"What is _that_?" Adam asked, gaping.

Sam turned his head to one side, then the other, taking in the print from the sides. "Looks like…maybe a lizard? A big, _big_ lizard?"

Dean glanced up at him. "So…what? She was killed by a T-Rex?"

"That'd be kinda cool," Adam chimed in, shaking his head. "But she was roasted, too."

"A fire-breathing lizard." Dean frowned. "Great, we're hunting Godzilla."

Sam didn't look pleased with the notion. "I think we should get a look at those bodies in the morning."

**SPN SPN SPN**

_Los Angeles County Department of Coroner_

Examining autopsied corpses was a perk of the job that Adam hadn't quite gotten used to, yet. He'd been a pre-med student at the University of Wisconsin before his…untimely death at the hands of vengeful ghouls, but now that he was getting up close and personal with the charred and half-eaten remains of victim number three—one Emily Brandt, late of northern Los Angeles—he wasn't so sure he would have finished his education in that field.

In fact, after watching Sam methodically examine four charred, mangled corpses in a row, he was certain that he was just one more rotting body part away from throwing up his breakfast all over the coroner's table.

"Regretting all that bacon, big guy?" Dean whispered, appearing next to him at the table.

His oldest brother's expression was half-sympathy, half-teasing. Adam just nodded. Better to keep his mouth closed.

"This is why I let Sammy do the lifting when we get to this part," Dean said sagely.

Adam glanced at him sideways, then nodded at Sam, who was busy giving the corpse a thorough once-over. "I don't know how he can stand this stench."

"Get a few burritos in him, you'll find out all about stench." Dean deadpanned, jutting his chin in Sam's direction.

"Don't remind me," Adam groaned, feeling a little more nauseated at the memory of lunch in El Paso three and a half months earlier.

"You guys know I can hear you, right?" Sam asked idly, using a magnifier to get a closer look at something along Ms. Brandt's calf.

"Find anything?" Dean asked, sidestepping his sibling's question.

"Maybe." Sam glanced up briefly. "Adam, can you hand me that scalpel?"

Adam looked over his shoulder to make sure the coroner wasn't nearby before snagging one of the blades off the tool cart. The clearly overworked coroner had been more than happy to go back to his forms and files after they'd flashed their FBI badges and started looking at the bodies. He didn't seem to care what they did after he was excused.

Adam handed the scalpel over to Sam. "What do you see?"

Sam ignored the question for a moment, cutting a small incision into the corpse, and then prying something loose. He held it up so Adam and Dean could see the object.

"Is that a _tooth_?" Dean asked, pulling on a latex glove and holding his hand out.

Sam dropped it into his hand. "Yeah, reptilian, I think. Like a snake, but a lot bigger."

"So," Dean mused, staring down at the four inch fang with a grin forming slowly on his face. "We've got a giant lizard footprint at the scene, and a giant lizard tooth broke off in our vic's leg…my guess is we're looking for a giant lizard."

Sam smiled patiently. "That's real perceptive of you, Dean."

"Screw you," Dean shot back without heat, handing the tooth off to Adam. "I don't see the Walking Encyclopedia of Weird coming up with any explanations either."

"If I had any, I'd give it to you."

Adam glanced up at Sam from his examination of the fang. "And Dad's journal doesn't have anything about big lizard teeth?" He'd read the book from cover to cover, partly for his on-the-job training as a hunter, and partly to get a better sense of who John Winchester really was, besides the guy who'd taken him to a baseball game for one birthday and taught him to play poker and drive. But, Adam hadn't seen anything like this, and his brothers had been scouring the book longer than he had.

Dean shook his head. "Nah, I'd remember if Dad had ever hunted a _dragon_."

"So, we're nowhere." Adam sighed, handing the fang back.

"No." Dean said, holding the fang up to the light. "Not nowhere. I'd say we have one more lead on this than when we came in here." He cast a glance toward the coroner's office. "Let's grab lunch and look over these files before the doc starts asking us too many questions."

**SPN SPN SPN**

"A dragon?!" Bobby exclaimed, glancing down at the phone's handset and wondering if he'd heard correctly. "No, Sam, so far as I know, dragons don't exist."

Rufus looked over at him from the desk and mouthed _Dragon?_

Bobby shrugged. "Yeah. Okay. Yeah, do that and I'll take a look. Okay. Bye, Sam." He hung up and looked over at his old partner, who was frowning.

"Did I hear that right?"

Bobby nodded. "Yeah, they found some tracks and a tooth. Looks like both came from some kind of giant lizard. They _think_. Sam's emailing the photos so we can look at them."

"Well, outside of Sean Connery movies and the occasional parade in Chinatown, I don't think anyone's ever seen a dragon." Rufus huffed. "That all they've got to go on?"

"They're going through all the evidence now."

Bobby's email bleeped. He stepped around the desk and opened message. Sam had sent them four pictures, two photos of the footprint, day and night—with Dean's foot next to it for scale—and two angles on the tooth. Looked like a giant snake tooth. Bobby swiveled the monitor for Rufus.

Rufus whistled in admiration. "That's a big foot."

Swiveling the monitor back, Bobby sighed. "Well, let's see what we can find out. Um, you wanna look at those crypto-zoology books over there, Rufus?" He pointed to the bookshelf closest to the window.

"Sure. Want me to read them to you too, Singer?" Rufus huffed as he wheeled his chair toward the wall.

Bobby dropped his face into his hands. He'd never prayed so hard in his life for a wound to heal.

**SPN SPN SPN**

Dean watched Sam and Adam as they poured over copies of the crime scene reports and a map of Los Angeles on the motel room table. He took the opportunity to study his brothers from the vantage point of being propped against his bed's headboard, pillows cushioning the still-healing sunburn on his back.

Adam was easy to read. The kid was thrilled to be hunting again. _Kid really got the bug_…. Eight months earlier, Dean never would have expected Adam to catch on so quickly. He had just been a scared, traumatized victim. Sam had backed their little brother up, more or less, but at first, Dean had shot down the entire notion of training him.

For starters, it wasn't what Dad had wanted. John had clearly done his best to keep Adam away from the hunting world. He'd even gone so far as to keep the kid's mere existence a secret. Dean couldn't ignore that. Dunking their newfound brother head-first into the messy, bloody world of hunting seemed wrong, at least at first.

Secondly, Dean had been reluctant to put either of his brothers back in harm's way after their experiences in Lucifer's cage. The feeling of loss from when they'd fallen had been too strong, and Dean didn't want to risk losing either of them again.

But time, Adam's persistence, and the disastrous ambush at Lisa's house by Meg, her hellhounds, and two rogue angels had changed everything. The world was different than it had been when John had concealed his third son. The bad guys—and more than a few of the good guys who'd been screwed in the abortive Apocalypse—would never leave any of them alone. Adam couldn't go back to a peaceful, free life. Neither could Sam.

_Neither can I_.

Like it or not, they would be keeping a low profile for years to come. If not forever. At the time, it had seemed reasonable to agree and let his youngest brother into the game. Adam was willing and able, an extra pair of hands was always welcome on a hunt, and who was Dean Winchester to say no, anyway?

But, whatever progress they'd made on a personal or emotional front while staying at Mike's Baja beach house, now that they were working a case again, Dean…wasn't sure he wanted to be doing this anymore.

He shifted his attention to Sam, who was circling a few locations on the map. Adam didn't seem to notice it, but Dean could see the same hesitation in his Sam's eyes. _Hell, it's all over his face_.

Sam had been a reluctant hunter from the beginning. He had never truly embraced the family vendetta against Azazel; he'd been too young to remember what the demon had done to them when it murdered Mary. Unlike Dean, Sam had hated the nomadic, outlaw lifestyle, so much so that he'd left it behind to go to Stanford. Jessica's death had changed that, but then with Dean's deal and subsequent captivity in Hell and Ruby's manipulation afterward, the angels, Lucifer…

Dean couldn't blame Sam if he wanted to throw in the proverbial towel. Sam had certainly paid his dues, a thousand times over. Between the two of them, they'd done everything that had been asked of them, and too much more. If anyone deserved to fade away, they did.

There was the rub, though. If he and Sam decided that they were truly—finally—done…where would that leave Adam? They couldn't leave their little brother out in the cold, not after everything. And Adam wouldn't just quit. Not anymore. Dean could sense that much.

What did that mean for them?

"Dean?"

Dean blinked. Both the siblings in question were looking at him. He realized that he'd completely missed something in their conversation.

"You all right?" Sam asked, frowning faintly.

"Uh," Dean said eloquently. "Yeah."

Both Sam and Adam were frowning now.

"I was—um, I was thinking about something."

"About the case?" Adam inquired, eyes narrowing. "Or about that girl at the front desk?"

Dean smirked. His youngest sibling had just supplied the perfect cover. "Busted. Sorry."

Adam shook his head, chuckling.

Sam's brow furrowed more. "You wanna put Stacy's clothes back on in your mind and help us with this?"

"Sure!" Dean shot back, holding his hands to his temples. "Give me just a sec—oh, yeah. Yeah, that's— Whoo! Okay, I'm back. What'd'ya got?"

Sam rolled his eyes, but didn't comment any further. Instead, he directed Dean to the map. "We think we might have something."

Dean slid off the bed and stepped over, staring down at the layout of the city. Sam had drawn some red lines between circled areas near Granada Hills, and he pointed to them each in turn.

"Here's where the first victim was found, uh, Jose Sanchez, in Bee Canyon Park."

"Okay." Dean nodded, following Sam's finger across the map.

"Next we have Eric Carter, right here, just off the Golden State Freeway. Police found his body by his car, which had a flat tire. They think he stopped around three in the morning and pulled off the highway."

"And became lizard food. That would suck."

"Pretty much," Sam continued, pointing to a third red circle. "Third vic was Emily Brandt. She worked at the Knollwood Golf Course. Apparently, she stayed after work to go over some receipts. They found her here, toward the north end of the course."

"And here, on the west side of the course," Adam added. "And…here at the east—"

"I—I get the picture." Dean grimaced.

Adam shrugged, sticking his tongue out in a mock gag.

Dean could sympathize. "And the last one?"

"Stephie Gavilan," Sam said. "Last seen when she went running the other night in O'Melveny Park."

"Right. That's the site we visited." Dean nodded, studying the map.

Sam and Adam waited for him to reach his own conclusion.

"So, all the attacks seem to be within an area a few miles across."

"Mm-hmm," Sam and Adam hummed simultaneously.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Hunting ground?"

"That's what we think," Sam confirmed.

"But this is L.A." Dean crossed his arms, standing straight to get his t-shirt off his sunburned shoulder blades. "Someone's going to notice _Gamera_ walking around chomping on pedestrians."

"Who?" Adam asked, squinting in confusion.

"Gamera," Dean replied, turning to his youngest sibling, who was staring blankly back. "Gamera! Giant turtle? Fought Godzilla a few times?"

Adam just blinked.

Dean sighed. "What did you watch on TV growing up?"

Adam frowned. "Um…I dunno, Power Rangers?"

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and wagged a finger at him. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

"_Anyways_," Sam interrupted. "Yeah, Dean, you're right. But all of these attacks seemed to take place at night. So, we're thinking that maybe it stays hidden during the day and goes out to feed after dark. Or close to dark, anyway. Gavilan's time of death was estimated at about sunset."

"All right." Dean lowered himself into one of the chairs. "So why all of a sudden? The coroner didn't act like this had happened before."

Adam piped up. "Maybe it just moved here."

"Yeah." Sam nodded. "This many kills in just two week's time…maybe it's establishing itself. Marking its territory."

Dean shuddered. "Ugh. I just got an image of Godzilla peeing on Los Angeles."

"Bet you never saw that movie growing up," Adam muttered, smirking.

"No, but I did see this video once where this girl—"

"_Stop!_" Adam held up a hand, shuddering himself that time.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, scowling. "Oh, God, I saw that video too…_and_ now it's all I can see. Thanks, Dean."

Adam frowned, spreading his hands in silent confusion. Dean patted his forearm. "We'll show it to you when you're older."

"No. No, we won't," Sam corrected emphatically.

Adam motioned toward the map. "Can we please get back to—?"

"Yeah." Sam turned the laptop around so Dean could see the internet window he had open on the screen. "I read up on reptiles, in general. A lot of them hang out in or around water, especially in the hot season. L.A.'s in the hot season now, so I think it might be a good bet this thing will stay around water."

"And like you said," Adam added, "people would notice this thing if it was living along the coast and walking fifteen miles into the city to eat."

Sam pointed to a blue area on the map between his red circles. "So, I think we might look here, Lower Van Norman Lake. It's part of the local reservoir system."

Dean was skeptical. "So, you think a giant lizard hangs out by this watering hole all day, in broad daylight, and nobody sees it?"

"Depends how big the thing actually is, and how deep the water is," Adam countered. "It's a place to start."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"_Stakeouts suck_."

Adam rolled his eyes. Dean had been grumbling ever since they arrived, even though he got to stay in the car, listening to the police scanner, while Adam and Sam circled Lower Van Norman Lake on foot. They had their cells on speaker, and every fifteen minutes they would shine their flashlights so the others could see. Adam raised his phone to his mouth. "Don't know what you're complaining about. You're not the one out here scoping out Godzilla's lair."

"_Possible lair_," Sam corrected.

Adam couldn't see much in the darkness, but he figured Sam was on the rise across the lake.

"_Yeah, well, you're not the ones sitting around with nothing to eat but day old potato chips_," Dean countered petulantly.

Adam shook his head. "Wanna switch places?"

There was a pause. "_No_."

"Didn't think so."

"_It's been fifteen minutes, smartass. Where's your light?_" Dean griped back.

"I'm talking to you on the phone!"

"_You know the rules. Lights!_" Dean ordered from the car. He sounded annoyed, but it was probably just an act.

John Winchester had never been around enough for Adam to see his disciplinarian side, but Sam had filled him in, and he knew Dean had inherited that tone of voice and the tendency to give orders. It didn't bother him too much, even though he knew he was the bottom rung on their little chain of command. At least when they were hunting.

Sighing loudly into his phone, Adam lifted his flashlight and shined it back and forth, lighthouse style. He could see Sam doing the same on the far side of the lake, and Dean flashing the Impala's headlights.

Adam walked in silence for the next few minutes. It was unnervingly quiet, but the usual collection of night insects were chirping away, so he was reasonably certain there weren't any large predators out there with them.

He hoped that rule still applied when it came to giant lizard things. Adam shifted his shoulder just to feel the strap on his hunting rifle and reassure himself.

A few yards farther, he stopped and stepped up onto the edge of the concrete retaining wall. The quarter moon peeking through the clouds and the ambient glow of the city lights allowed him to see the smooth, dark surface of the reservoir, and much of the surrounding land. Quietly, Adam sank into a crouch and went still, letting himself blend into the surroundings.

He and Sam were both dressed in black. They didn't want to stand out too much with the surroundings in case something really was there, and they weren't keen on being spotted from the nearby highway walking around with loaded weapons. After a long moment, Adam clicked his flashlight back on and swept it low across the ground and along the edge of the water.

There weren't any tracks even remotely like the ones they'd found at the last scene. In fact, aside from a few human footprints and what might have been a coyote print, the ground was barely disturbed. Still something felt off about their search.

Well, something _else_ felt off about their search. He kept getting the sense that his brothers weren't very happy about being there, working the job. They were professionals, of course, they took the danger seriously, but Adam kept seeing reluctance on Sam's face when the other didn't think he was looking. Dean was harder to judge, but Adam suspected the same was true for him. He knew that his siblings had had a hard time the past few years—and the encounter with that demonic monster back in North Carolina had rattled Sam—but he had hoped after their stint south of the border that getting back into a hunt might invigorate them. The opposite seemed to be happening.

If he'd known how his brothers felt, he wouldn't have jumped at Bobby's request so eagerly. So far, he'd kept his observations to himself, but Adam feared that Sam and Dean weren't seeing things the way he was, and he wasn't sure where that left them. His phone crackled. He buried his musings and focused on why they were out there.

"_Adam?_" Sam asked, speaking low. "_You okay over there?_"

He lifted his phone and kept his voice down, too. "Yeah, I'm here. I just stopped to look around."

"_See something?_" Dean cut in, sounding almost hopeful.

"No, that's just it. I, uh, I don't know how you guys would describe this, but…I'm just not feeling it here."

"_Not feeling what?_" Sam asked.

Adam sighed softly. "You know, that feeling you get on a hunt when you're getting close to something?"

"_Sure it's not gas?_" Dean quipped.

"No, it's not gas." Adam smirked. "I'm not Sam."

"_Hey!_" Sam protested, offended.

"Whatever it is," Adam continued quickly, cutting off any further protest, "I'm just not getting it. I think we're on the wrong track."

There was a pause. After a minute or so, Sam spoke again. "_I gotta tell you, Dean, I think I'm with Adam on this one. Hell, I'm not sure this water's even deep enough to hide a lizard—dinosaur—whatever_."

Adam heard Dean hum thoughtfully through the speaker. "_Well, let's give it time. Maybe the thing is already out…eating. We might still catch it on the way back, if this is the place_."

Sam and Adam agreed.

"_Both of you find a place to settle in and wait. Try to keep out of sight if you can_."

"_All right. There's a big concrete…pier thing over here. I'll head for that_," Sam called back.

Adam saw a large square drain cutout about twenty feet from where he crouched. "There's a drain on this side. I'll be next to it."

"_I'll…stay her, with the day-old chips_," Dean answered, sounding as though he already regretted his plan.

Adam grinned as he jogged over and knelt down near the drain opening. Settling in, he felt a drop of rain land on his forehead.

"This is going to be a long night..." he groaned softly.

**SPN SPN SPN**

_Granada Hills__ Youth __Recreation Center_

Tanisha Russel slammed the door of her Camry and yanked her jacket over her head. Her son Tim had been home from the softball game for three hours, but had only just remembered leaving his book bag in the dugout at the rec. Naturally, his homework for the next day was inside it, and of course, it had to be raining.

"My day can't get any freakin' worse!" she yelled to no one. She was alone at the field, and glared in the direction of the bleachers that flanked one of the smaller ball fields. Tim had last been sitting with his friend Alan and a few of the other team members, and all Tanisha knew was that it was at this field, over where the hot dog stand had been set up. All of the vending areas had been folded up and moved out, so maybe that'd make her search a little easier. _Hopefully_.

Of all days for this to be happening, it had to be today! She had to be at work early in the morning for one of their painfully boring security lectures. _At least I can sleep through it_….

The bag was nowhere around the bleachers. She could just barely see under them, even with the bright banks of field lights still on overhead. Grumbling, she edged past the fence and walked around behind, trying to steer clear of the deepest of the growing mud puddles. She smirked grimly to herself as she searched. The weatherman had been wrong again. They weren't supposed to have rain until the weekend, but it had been pouring for almost two hours and showed no sign of letting up.

"Ah ha!" Tanisha cried, spotting the missing bag at last. It was nestled between a fence post and one of the thick metal supports for the scoreboard. She headed for it, stopping only briefly to curse when she stepped into a deep puddle, splashing mud up onto her shoes. Picking the bag up and shaking some water off of it, Tanisha turned and headed back toward the parking lot, only to stop in her tracks.

Five men were standing between her and the car, all wearing some kind of utility coveralls. Tanisha could just make out their faces in the glow of the field lights. They all seemed to be identical. _Quintuplets?_ _Never seen any in person_. She couldn't see their expressions clearly, but they were all staring directly at her. She smiled nervously. Maybe they worked there and thought she was stealing something.

"My son left his bag," she called, struggling to keep her jacket over her head as the wind picked up and rain started hitting her face.

The men didn't answer, just stared.

Tanisha began feeling uneasy, and slowly started walking in the direction of the parking lot, keeping to her right and trying to put one of the fences or a building between her and the strangely silent men.

She made it about a dozen feet when they started moving toward her. Their appearance seemed to blur, then distort as they moved, before finally changing completely.

For a moment, Tanisha could only stare at what she was seeing, then she screamed and bolted in the opposite direction, away from her car. Then she felt a wave of intense heat pass over her body.

**SPN SPN SPN**

It had been raining for three hours. Dean flipped on the Impala's windshield wipers to clear his view, feeling a nagging sense of guilt. He should have called this stakeout off. There was no sense in Sam and Adam getting drenched when clearly no creature—dragon, Gamera, or otherwise—was camping out at the lake. Better to head back to the motel and regroup than sit there and suffer all night.

His siblings hadn't complained much, even though there was no cover around the lake's artificial edges. Dean knew they had to be soaked. He'd considered rolling down his window earlier, as an act of solidarity, but he'd just detailed his baby's interior…they'd understand why he decided against it.

Well, Sam would. Adam might, but Dean wasn't sure. _Better just not to mention it_.

He was about to pick up his cell and call his brothers in when the police scanner crackled to life on the passenger seat. Dean almost ignored it, as there had been a lot of accident calls since the rain started, but he listened for a moment to be sure.

"_Calling any unit in the Granada Hills area. We have a reported 904 at the rec center at 13100 Balboa Boulevard. Repeat, we have report of 904 at the rec at 13100 Balboa. Respond."_

904. Dean frowned. _Fire, I think_.

Sam's voice filtered through the cell phone speaker, interrupting his thoughts. "_Hey, Dean, I'm thinking we should call it a night. Temp's starting to drop_."

Dean smiled and lifted the phone to reply when the scanner crackled again.

"_Base, this is Ramirez. I'm 10-97 at the rec. Looks like a 10-53. Send a bus_."

Dean frowned. "10-53" sounded familiar. They'd spent enough time around cops—and impersonating them—so a few of the codes stood out.

"_Dean? You there?_" Sam called again.

"_He's probably rocking out to Survivor, again_." Adam chimed in teasingly.

"_Wait until you catch him lip-synching to Air Supply, then we'll talk_," Sam countered.

Dean raised an eyebrow at that. It had only been that one time. Well, Sam had only caught him that one time. But he set aside his retort. "Hang on, guys."

"_Ramirez, base. Say again_."

"_Base, we need a bus at the rec. One victim. Died in the fire—explosion, not sure what. Real mess out here_."

"_Copy, Ramirez. Units en route_."

Dean pulled the road map from the backseat and checked for Balboa Boulevard, then lifted his cell phone. "Hey, guys, get back to the car. We might have something."

It took only two minutes for Sam and Adam to come jogging his way from opposite sides of the reservoir. Dean rolled down his window as they approached. Sam stepped up to the door and held his jacket over his head, shielding them some from the rain. "What's up?"

"Scanner picked up a police call," Dean explained. "Someone was killed a few streets over. Burned. The cop couldn't explain what caused it."

Adam cast a glance over his shoulder warily. "You think it's our lizard?"

"Only one way to find out," Sam replied, already headed for the passenger-side door.

Dean held up his left hand to stop his brother.

"Hey, Sam? Sam!" He crooked his thumb, pointing over his shoulder toward the trunk. "Can you get the….?"

Sam stared blankly at him for a moment, then realization dawned on his face. "Seriously?"

"Well…" Dean shrugged.

"It's raining, Dean!"

"I know, but…."

Sam sighed with aggravation. "Oh, my God. Adam, will you get those camping tarps out of the trunk? So we can _cover the seats_ before we sit down."

Adam's gaze shifted from Sam to Dean, eyes narrowing. "Oh, _nice_ man."

Dean cringed. "I'm sorry! She's clean, and you guys are really wet…"

With a groan, Adam turned and made for the rear of the car, shaking his hands in Dean's direction and sending water spraying at his oldest brother. "You're unbelievable, Dean."

Dean turned his head to track Adam's retreat. He grinned meekly. "That's what she said."

Sam and Adam replied together. "Shut up!"

**SPN SPN SPN**

After dropping his brothers off at the motel room to dry off and warm up, Dean threw on his black suit and tie, grabbed his FBI badge, and headed for the new crime scene for a little recon. The police seemed to be writing the death off as accidental, judging by the reports they'd been listening to over the scanner. Security probably wouldn't be too tight.

Indeed, when he turned the Impala into the rec center's expansive parking lot, Dean saw only two police cruisers, an ambulance, and a fire engine. The lot ran the considerable length of the center's ballfields, and the rain had let up, so he parked a discreet distance away and ambled up to the lines of yellow tape surrounding an area around the fence line. An officer frowned at him, but waved him through upon seeing his badge. A sergeant turned and intercepted him as he headed for the large, burned-out area near one of the squat, concrete buildings.

"Can I help you?"

Dean flashed his ID again. "Yeah, I'm Agent Welnick, FBI. Are you Sergeant…Ramirez?"

The cop looked at him askance. "Yeah."

Dean smiled broadly. "Good, I was told to ask for you. My supervisor sent me out to lend a hand with this…well, whatever it is."

Ramirez glanced over at the body, then back at Dean. "What's the Bureau want with an accidental burning?"

"Uh, that's a good question." Dean stalled, thinking on his feet.

Ramirez waited expectantly.

Dean put on his most comradely smile. "Look, total honesty?"

Ramirez raised his eyebrows and nodded.

"I have no idea why I'm out here. We got a new boss at the Field Office, came in three weeks ago. He's got his nose into _everything_. I think he's bucking for promotion. He sent me out here to see what was goin' on."

Ramirez studied him a moment, then shrugged. "Sounds like a pain in the ass."

Dean chuckled, hiding his relief at the man's acceptance. "You have no idea, man. He's had us running our asses off ever since he got here."

Ramirez snorted, motioning Dean to follow him to the scorched area. "I know what that's like. We do the running, they sit on their asses and take the credit."

Grunting in agreement, Dean nodded ahead. "I tell ya, as soon as a spot at Homeland Security comes open, I am outta there! So, what is all this?"

Ramirez shrugged again, stopping in front of a white sheet and pulling it up so Dean could see. A charred, almost unrecognizably human body rested on the ground. What was left of it, in any case. Most of the torso was missing, as was part of one arm and a foot.

"Eh, near as we can tell, a woman came out here, decided to have a smoke." Ramirez pointed to a burned, partially melted woman's purse. Among the spilled contents was a blackened pack of Morley's. Then he guided Dean's gaze up and past the body, where a mangled steel propane tank rested against the concrete wall of the concession building, hooked into what was left of a grill. "Apparently she didn't notice the tank. Probably didn't even know what hit her."

"Mmm." Dean grimaced. "Sucks to be her. She the only one?"

"So far as we can tell."

Dean nodded, taking in the carnage. The body looked very similar to the ones they'd looked over in the morgue. He noticed injuries—the same kinds as on the other victims—along the woman's midsection. Blood was splattered along the ground around her, coloring several of the deep, muddy puddles left by the rain.

Turning back to Ramirez, Dean gave a final nod. "All right. I've seen enough. I don't think this is anything we need to get involved with."

Ramirez smirked. "Good. Every time you guys come in, my boss starts a pissing contest with the Bureau."

Dean laughed along with him, good-naturedly. "Well, if you don't mind, I'm going to walk around so I can tell my boss I checked everything."

"That's fine. We're just on clean-up now. Knock yourself out." Ramirez waved him off.

Dean started moving down the fence line to the outskirts of the burn zone.

Ramirez called out again. "And, hey, good luck with that job hunt."

Dean laughed. "Thank you!" He walked on, moving away from the cops. Ramirez and the others went back to work and seemed to ignore him entirely.

He walked toward the larger of the sports fields, at the eastern side of the massive lot. Mud mixed with grass, forming large puddles and marshy green land. He stuck to the grassy areas so as not to get his shoes filthy.

Dean was about to head back to the Impala when he noticed a depression in the mud where dirt met grass. Stepping over to it, with a cautious glance to make sure he wasn't being watched—he wasn't—Dean took a closer look. The depression was another huge, reptilian footprint. Turning to look in the direction the toes were pointing, he saw another print, several feet farther into the grass. The ground was soft from the soaking rain.

"Well, well, well…" Dean mused, following in the direction of the tracks. A regular pattern of footprints trailed along the grass and mud, roughly parallel to the edge of the asphalt parking lot. He counted a dozen clear prints and at least half as many more, indistinct ones. Judging by the gait, he guessed that whatever it was had two feet.

And a really long stride. _The thing must be huge!_

"Definitely Godzilla, not Gamera," Dean muttered to himself. He was a considerable distance from the crime scene by then. It seemed the creature had left in that direction. Between the prints, he saw dark splotches of color, something staining the mud and grass. He knelt and yanked a long clump of weeds out of the ground. The stalks were stained with the same substance.

One thing any hunter worth his salt could spot—no matter the species—was blood. Dean looked back, and considered what Ramirez had shown him. The explosion of the propane tank might have injured…whatever it was they were hunting. He stood and continued walking.

If it bled, they could kill it.

Following along the same line, Dean soon came to the far end of the larger ball field. The parking lot ended with a worn, solid wood fence about ten more yards away. He crossed over the asphalt to the end of the wooden fence, and he stopped along a row of low bushes. In one place, the bushes were flattened and spread apart, and more blood stains dotted the asphalt.

Looking up beyond the glow of the field lights and in the darkness beyond, Dean could see a huge open area, and beyond that, a mass of girders and piping. It was hard to see in the gloom, but it looked like a water treatment plant.

Dean chewed his lower lip, taking in the sight. _Water treatment_… He turned and headed briskly back toward the Impala. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved his phone and pulled up the contacts list.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean began as soon as the call connected. "I think we might have something here."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Do I _have_ to wear these?" Adam asked, motioning to the black-rimmed eyeglasses that Dean had bought at the convenience store that morning. He sounded more like twelve years old than twenty.

Sam grinned, but kept his eyes on the L.A. city map and let Dean take the question. They were already wearing their G-man duds.

"Yes," Dean replied, not missing a beat. "They match your coveralls."

Adam was next to the motel room's mirror, wearing a set of gray coveralls, with a generic computer security company's logo on the left breast. He would be playing the accompanying computer tech to Sam and Dean's Homeland Security duo. It wasn't perfect, but it was the best Dean had been able to…_borrow_ just before dawn.

The glasses _did_ help sell it. Sam tried hard to hide his smirk, for Adam's sake.

"They look ridiculous. Can't I just be another DHS agent, like you guys?" Adam asked again, for the third time.

Dean shook his head. "You look too young for that. Sorry, man."

Adam pointed an accusatory finger at Sam. "And his hair's too long to pass as an agent. Let him play the tech, he fits the part!"

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Dean beat him to it, waving dismissively. "Dude, nobody pays attention to hair. Besides, I couldn't find a jumpsuit in his size."

Apparently, Adam caught Sam's smirk that time, because he folded his arms and his voice took on a hard sarcastic edge. "Yeah, I can see that. It's hard to find clothes in Sasquatch sizes."

"Hey!" Sam objected, turning to his feuding brothers.

Dean nodded without looking up from his duffel. "You're tellin' me…"

Sam furrowed his brow. "Hey! I'm standing right here, guys."

Adam huffed, leaning against the wall. "I look ridiculous."

Dean sighed, straightening to face him. "You look fine. Stop worrying. You just stay behind us and don't say anything. We've done this a hundred times."

Sam bit back a reminder to Dean of how _he'd_ reacted the first time they'd had to dress up to gain access to a crime scene. It wouldn't help, but he made a mental note to tell Adam the story later. He spoke up before Adam could reply. It wasn't that he didn't enjoying watching Dean assert his particular brand of big brother authority, but they had work to do. "I've been checking the map again, Dean, and I think you're right. This water plant is right in the middle of the action. This thing could have made it to each location and back in the dark without too many people seeing it."

"What I want to know," Dean shot back, zipping up the duffel and placing it by the door, "is how this thing can get close at all without someone—anyone—noticing a giant monster stalking around."

Sam scratched idly at the back of his neck. "Well, Adam and I were talking about that while you were gone last night. Maybe this thing can make people see what it wants them to see."

"Or at least see something less threatening than what it really is," Adam added, fussing with the zipper on his jumpsuit.

"Right," Sam continued. "Like a siren, or a rakshasa, or a crocotta. They project this glamour onto humans that hides what they really look like until they attack. Kind of like how some animals use camouflage."

Dean frowned. "Okay, I'm with you so far. So, I take it we're looking for a _person_, right? Not a car or a tree?"

"Probably." Sam shrugged. "I mean, all those other creatures project people. I think a tree moving around would attract attention."

"And if this place has security cameras, we'll be able to see it on those," Adam said.

"Yeah, stands to reason."

"See?" Dean piped up. "We're not just dressing you up for no reason."

Adam shot him a sideways glance, but seemed to relent. "Fine. But next time, if we have to dress up _I_ want to pick the disguise."

Dean nodded, a little too pleasantly. "Sure. Next time we're in L.A. hunting a giant lizard that's eating people, you can decide."

Adam's eyes narrowed.

Sam had to cover his mouth before he laughed at the look of _murder_ that crossed his little brother's face. He rose quickly from the table and hoisted his own duffel over his shoulder, pushing Dean toward the door. "Let's go! Daylight's burning. Hey, grab the laptop bag, Adam."

He had Dean out the door and headed for the Impala before the younger man could speak.

**SPN SPN SPN**

The Joseph Jensen Water Treatment plant was huge. The website had stated its size at 125 acres, and standing on the premises, Adam could easily believe it. It consisted of a collection of white and gray concrete buildings, connected to a series of twelve vast water basins that were crisscrossed with large steel girders and piping. Dotting the rest of the complex were large tank farms, offices, and what looked like large runoff areas.

It seemed like an excellent place for something to hide, especially if it laid low and only came out at night. Though, the thought of something hiding _in_ the water basins, and doing God-only-knew-what in them, had Adam seriously rethinking his use of water while they were in town. He'd have to stick to the bottled stuff.

Dean had parked next to the main administration building on the southeast side of the facility. The water basins dominated their view on the left. On the right over a rise, a forest of power line towers extended across the horizon, marking the site of a power transformer complex about a mile away. Despite being in the midst of a residential area, the plant covered such a wide area that the buildings and grounds seemed isolated from civilization.

They headed up the stairs that led from the parking lot to a white- and wine-colored office building. Adam hung back a few feet, letting Dean and Sam take the lead and present a united front with their dark suits. It gave him the chance to discreetly examine the surroundings while his brothers talked their way past the manager.

Speaking of, the manager finally appeared, walking toward them from a long hallway next to the receptionist's desk. He was a plump, balding man with round, dark-rimmed glasses, and was wearing a well-worn, tan button-up sweater. When he stopped in front of them, he stood almost a full head shorter than Sam.

"I'm Alex Nichols, plant manager. Good morning, Agents…?"

Dean produced a polite but friendly smile and motioned to himself and Sam in turn. "Mr. Nichols, I'm Agent Page, this is my partner Agent Jones. We're with the Department of Homeland Security."

Nichols nodded to Sam in greeting, glanced back at the receptionist, then turned back to Dean. "Homeland Security, yes, Madelaine mentioned that. Um, this is…unusual. What can I do for you?"

Dean glanced around the mostly empty reception area. "This is, uh, somewhat sensitive. Is there some place we can speak in private?"

"Certainly, certainly." Nichols beckoned them toward the corridor, and led them deeper into the building, past several glassed-in offices. One side of the corridor was made up of floor-to-ceiling windows that provided a grand view of the basins and piping outside. Nichols' office was at the end of the hallway, unlike the others featuring a wooden door and full wall.

To Adam, Nichols looked nervous. He probably wasn't used to getting surprise visits from the Federal government. He ushered them inside, then closed the door and walked around to stand behind his desk. Adam hung back near the door and watched his brothers whip out their stern cop/compassionate cop routine on the hapless supervisor.

Dean started in with his all-business voice. "Mr. Nichols, are you aware of any recent terrorist threats against your facility?"

Some of the color drained from Nichols' pudgy face at the words. He stammered for a moment, shifting from foot to foot. "Um, no. My gosh, no. I'm not."

Sam broke out a comforting smile. "Mr. Nichols, I'm sorry. We thought our superiors had already informed you."

Nichols shook his head, looking a little shaken himself.

"DHS has intel that seems to indicate this treatment plant as a possible target for terrorists. We were ordered out here to consult with you."

"The Secretary is announcing an elevated alert tomorrow," Dean added, using that business voice again. "We're supposed to inspect the site ahead of time so we can be ready."

Adam kept his face carefully neutral. If someone didn't know better, they'd never suspect that Dean had just read a lot of those words for the first time a few hours before. Nichols didn't appear to know better.

"My Go—_here_?" Nichols sank into his brown padded office chair. "What—what do they have planned?"

Sam held out his hands to caution him. "Now, we said it was _possible_. All we know for certain is that the threat is localized in this area. A water treatment plant that processes so much drinking water for Southern California is at the top of our list for suspected targets. That's why we're here."

It was Dean's turn. "We're going to need to see your security camera footage for the last few weeks." He pointed to Adam. "This is Paul Doucette. He'll check to be sure your system is up to our specs. We need to see your personnel files on anyone who's recently been hired."

Nichols mouth was hanging open. "You mean it could be someone on the _inside_?"

"We realize this is all happening fast, and we just sprung this on you." Sam reached into his inside coat pocket, withdrawing a business card emblazoned with the DHS logo. "Here, talk to our supervisor. He'll give you all the details and the authorizations we need."

Nichols stood and accepted the card, studying it. "Deputy Director Robert Singer?"

"He's in our Midwest Field Office," Dean supplied. "And this is a time sensitive operation, so if you don't mind, we can wait right outside?"

"Of course," Nichols said quickly, already dialing. He looked a lot less comfortable than he had when he'd come out to meet them.

Adam followed Sam and Dean out into the hall, closing the door but leaving it cracked open enough to hear the conversation Nichols was about to have with Bobby.

Dean broke into a grin as soon as they were alone in the hallway and spoke softly. "So far, so good."

Sam shook his head. "Laid it on pretty thick in there."

"Nah." Dean waved him off. "Homeland Security is supposed to scare people."

Adam smirked and cocked an eyebrow. "Dean, you do know that I was pre-med at UW, right? I don't know anything about security systems."

"That's why Sammy will be with you."

"Where will _you_ be?" Adam asked with a frown.

"Personnel—" He broke off when he heard Nichols calling his name from inside the office.

That hadn't taken long.

They re-entered the office. Nichols was standing by his desk, tapping the edge of the business card on the phone receiver. He didn't look happy.

"Well, gentlemen, everything seems to be in order."

Adam breathed a silent sigh of relief. Bobby could be very convincing.

Nichols was frowning, though. "I have to tell you, this is all very disturbing. I mean…it's been _years_ since we worried about anything like this."

Sam appeared sympathetic. "Well, new threats are appearing all the time. We have to investigate them so we can be sure that we don't have to worry about them."

"I suppose so. I couldn't do your job." Nichols ran a hand through his thinning hair nervously. "So, tell me what you need from me."

Dean nodded at Adam and Sam. "Well, first let's set these two up in the security office."

**SPN SPN SPN**

The security room was in another building behind the Admin offices. Nichols led them over and introduced them to a security guard, who was on duty watching the screens. After instructing the guard to give them any help they needed, and setting Sam and Adam up on one console to review the past several weeks of footage, he and Dean excused themselves and went back outside.

"All right. What now? The personnel files?" Nichols asked, rubbing his hands together.

Dean gestured toward the rest of the facility. "Actually, would you mind if I looked around first? I've never been to one of these plants, and our briefing was spotty." He figured he could back off the stern agent image a bit. Nichols was proving to be helpful, and he was obviously freaked out by the whole terrorist story. Dean felt somewhat bad about that, but it was something easily believable. Certainly a better approach than "hi, we're here to kill Godzilla."

Nichols seemed to get excited at Dean's request. "Oh. Certainly. I'll show you around myself."

Dean smiled. "That'd be great. And, Mr. Nichols, relax. We're here to help."

The manager calmed a little, and led Dean over to a row of parked golf carts. _Awesome_. They climbed in one and Nichols steered the cart around the perimeter of the plant. As they began the impromptu tour, Nichols seemed to brighten. Dean got the impression that not many people showed interest in his work.

"This is the largest water treatment plant west of the Mississippi. We can deliver up to 750 million gallons of water a day. In case you're wondering, that's enough water to fill the Rose Bowl in less than three hours."

"Wow," Dean said, eyes widening. He was legitimately impressed by that. Nichols beamed at his reaction.

Nichols continued, driving them along and naming buildings and utility sheds as they passed. "We employ about 1,800 people, mostly maintenance and technicians. Still, the plant is highly automated. Computers and sensors monitor everything: pressure, temperature, water levels. We supply all over the valley, Ventura County, south to West Los Angeles, Santa Monica, and the Palos Verdes Peninsula."

Dean nodded. Nichols really was proud of his work. He kept up the cover, though. They had a job to do. "I can see why this was a priority target."

Nichols sobered a bit. "So, do you get these calls often? The threat warnings, I mean."

Dean shrugged slightly, eyeing the surroundings as they drove for any signs of their monster. "Eh, maybe fifty a year." Sounded like a nice, round number.

"_Fifty_? Really?"

"Most of them don't lead anywhere," Dean explained, making it up as he went. "But like I mentioned, we run them all down to be sure. Every now and then you get one like that guy who put the bomb in his underwear—"

"The one in Detroit?"

"Yeah, but that's rare. Most of the stuff we find doesn't make it far enough to be a problem."

Nichols slowed as they approached a line of ten tall, silver tanks. "Here we have ammonia storage tanks. We use ammonia and chlorine to purify the water as it flows through."

"That safe?" Dean asked, inspecting the tanks as they slowly motored by. Dean's eyes were drawn down to the ground, where he spotted similar dark stains to what he'd found at the rec center. More blood. He wondered why no one who worked there had noticed it yet.

"Well, the ammonia is safe. Very hard to ignite in air. Chlorine gas, though, is poisonous, so we store that in solid form. We dissolve it in the water."

"Kinda like cleaning a pool," Dean commented. His eyes tracked the erratic stain pattern until it disappeared behind another utility shed. It seemed to be leading in the direction of the huge basins.

Nichols chuckled. "Not too different actually. Let me show you the basins."

He turned the cart and began traveling north. "In front of us here, we have the ozonation building, our maintenance division is inside, and it houses the main purification tanks. We actually just finished a major remodeling about five years ago. Renovated, brought up to code, heavier freight doors for security purposes."

Dean noticed more blood stains across the pavement, leading into the building Nichols described. He glanced over at the manager, but he didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. Nichol's lack of reaction to the obvious definitely supported Sam's glamour theory. Whatever their lizard was, it seemed to have the people there completely fooled.

**SPN SPN SPN**

Sam sat next to Adam, wading through three weeks of security camera footage. The console had two widescreen monitors, each split into four images. Nichols had informed them that there were twenty cameras on-site, so Sam picked the eight closest to the basins and drainage areas to start out.

Unfortunately, their quarry seemed to come out only at night, so that meant they had a lot of daylight recordings to burn through where nothing of interest to them was happening. That quickly went from deadly dull to sleep-inducing, and he noticed Adam pinching the back of his hand under the console to keep focused. Sam talked to the guard on duty to keep his mind from wandering.

"So, it's just you on duty?"

The guard seemed happy to be talking to someone. Sam could understand that, even having watched the screens for only fifteen minutes. "During the day, yeah. My relief will come on at five and work 'til dawn."

"Twelve hour shifts?"

"Yeah," the guard snorted derisively. "There used to be ten of us, but they've been cutting the budget for two years. Now we only have three. We switch off days in here. Howard walks the grounds during the day and covers my breaks."

"What about at night?" Sam asked, trying to get a feel for the security situation.

"Five on the night shift crew. Custodial mainly, all outside. Thompson watches the cameras. Doesn't get a break, but he gets paid extra to do it. Better him than me."

Sam nodded, taking note of the information. The guard motioned at the screens Sam was watching. "So, what exactly are you looking for?"

"Anything that doesn't belong here," Sam replied easily.

The guard chuckled. "Well, get comfortable. Nothing ever happens at this place. You're going to be watching three weeks of _nothing_."

"Excuse me," Adam interrupted. "What is this?"

Sam turned. Adam was pointing at a dark shape in the water of the farthest basin from the Admin building. The shape wasn't moving, but stuck out on the bluish-white camera feeds. It was darker than anything in the other basins.

The guard stood and stepped over, looking for himself. "Oh, I don't know. It started showing up a few weeks back. I asked the techies and they said it's either a sediment concentration or some optical illusion in the camera lens. They've gone out and looked, but there's nothing unusual in the water."

"Mmm, fair enough," Adam conceded, shooting Sam a glance the guard couldn't see.

Sam nodded faintly. That was not "nothing." There was something in the water. The cameras could see it.

"Say, you guys mind if I step out for some coffee?" the guard asked, stepping toward the door. "There's a machine downstairs."

"Go for it," Sam replied. "We're not going anywhere."

"You want anything?"

Sam shook his head.

Adam sat back and stretched his shoulders. "Cream and sugar?"

"Sure thing." The guard walked out.

When the door closed behind him, Adam tapped the screen where the basin with the dark object was displayed. "I don't think that's sediment. It's on the previous day's tape, too."

Sam concurred. "No, that's our boy, I bet. How long ago is that?"

"Dated three weeks ago. Just appeared one day."

Sam pointed to the keyboard. "Advance to the next day. Then fast forward to nighttime, see if we can catch this thing on the move."

Adam went to work on the controls as Sam watched the video feed advance. The younger man slowed, then glanced at the door, and to Sam, before going back to the console.

"Can I ask you something?"

Sam blinked at the oddly formal tone his brother had slipped into, but nodded. "Shoot."

"Why are you guys working this case?" Adam asked, keeping his eyes carefully on the screen.

"What do you mean?" Sam frowned.

Adam paused, discomfort showing on his face. "I mean…well, it's obvious you two didn't want to do this."

Sam shot him a confused look.

"Sam, come on. I'm not dumb. You both wanted to stay in Mexico."

Sam hesitated. He'd hoped his and Dean's reluctance had been more hidden, but their younger brother was observant. They'd trained him a little too well. "Uh…well—"

"I mean, I get it," Adam continued. "I loved it down there, too. But, you two have earned it, you know? I could have come up here, checked it out, and called Bobby back for you."

"We wouldn't ask you to do that," Sam pointed out quickly.

Adam finally turned to look at him, his expression earnest, but tinged with some remorse. "But, I would have."

Did he feel he'd forced them to come here? Sam smiled faintly, bumping his shoulder against Adam's. "I know. _We_ know. You don't have to worry about proving anything to us, okay? Besides, we owe Bobby a lot. We came up here because he asked us to."

Adam observed him for a moment, then turned back the screen. "What about after this? You gonna want to go back?"

Sam heard the catch in that question. Do _you_ want to go back? Adam didn't. He generated a game smile and deflected. They didn't need to have this conversation at the moment. "Let's handle 'after' _after_. All right? We've got Godzilla by the tail."

If Adam knew he was evading, he didn't show it. He just went back to the video controls. A moment later, the guard returned with the coffee. Adam thanked the man for his, but stayed quiet after that. Sam studied the blond hunter out of the corner of his eye. They'd been through a lot together. To Hell and back, literally. He had a pretty good idea of what Adam would want to do after this job.

_He's young, and he _wants_ it_, Sam thought, not sure whether he was jaded or envious. He kept his face neutral, and ignored the fact that he didn't have an answer for his little brother's question.

**SPN SPN SPN**

"Is this all of them?" Dean asked, eyeing the thin manila folder Nichols handed him. There were only a few forms inside.

"Yes, that's all six. We hired Doctor Hernandez six months ago—he's one of the chemical specialists—and the five nighttime custodial staff just came on last month."

Dean flipped the pages. Hernandez had a full file, a photo, and a copy of his ID card. The next five forms were spotty, with only one name on each and no pictures. "The custodians are all named Savalas?"

"Yes, they're brothers. Quintuplets, actually." Nichols laughed lightly. "I'd never met any in real life. It's hard to tell them apart sometimes! We had a three-man crew before, but for some reason they all quit. Same day, about a month ago. We were lucky to find the Savalases. They came looking for work the day after the crew quit on us." He stared at Dean, eyes glazed over a bit.

Dean looked at him more closely. The manager had been fine a moment ago, but he looked a bit _blank_ all of a sudden.

"They did? Ah." Dean nodded slowly, keeping his eyes on Nichols, who sounded almost like he was reciting from memory. "And, uh, no photos?"

Nichols shrugged with another laugh. "Foul up at the photo lab. We took photos, but none of them came out."

Dean mouthed a silent "Oh." "Well, that sucks."

"It's all perfectly normal," Nichols replied mechanically.

"Mr. Nichols, are you all right?" Dean asked, keeping his tone calm.

Nichols blinked, and was back to his normal, jittery self. "Hmm? Oh, yes. Why do you ask?"

Dean caught the change. "Just…doing my job. Um, can we head back over to the security office?"

Nichols led him back to the second building, chit-chatting nervously as he'd been doing all morning. Dean noted that, like earlier, Nichols used an electronic keycard to enter the building, but the inner door to the security office wasn't locked.

Inside, Sam and Adam were still looking at security footage. Daytime feed was displayed on Adam's screen, and nighttime on Sam's. He noted Adam making a silent gesture to one of the four images on Sam's screen, and Sam freezing the image.

"Have you gents found everything you needed?" Nichols asked, sounding hopeful and apprehensive at the same time. He stopped just behind Sam's chair, and Dean slid in quietly beside him.

"Everything seems to be in order here," Sam answered, casting a casual glance over his shoulder to make eye contact with Dean.

_They found something_.

Sam indicated the guard who was sitting on his left, nursing a mostly empty cup of coffee. "Mr. Nelson here was just telling us about this sediment buildup you have," He pointed to a dark object in one of the basins on Adam's monitor.

Dean looked for himself, following Sam's subtle hints. "That's normal?"

Nichols looked for himself, and Dean noted that glazed look come over his face again. "Mmm. That happens sometimes. All depends on the quality of water we have coming in from up north." Nichols' gaze shifted to the nighttime recordings on Sam's monitor. "Oh, Agent Page, you were asking about the Savalas brothers. There they are."

Dean followed where Nichols was pointing on the screen. It was a view of the basins at night. There weren't any humans in the video, though. He blinked, wondering if he was seeing correctly. He saw two thick, dark-colored legs and a long, whip-like tail. The rest of—whatever it was—was obscured by shadows and the pipelines that ran above the basins.

Sam turned to look as well, and immediately froze the image. He swiveled his head. Dean met his intense glance and then took a moment to examine Nichols and the guard. Both were sporting that glazed over look again. Were they seeing people instead of a monster even on the video feed?

"This is the custodial staff?" Sam asked.

Dean thought he sounded a tad too casual, but it probably the best his brother could do considering. The other men didn't seem to notice, anyway.

Nelson the guard answered. "Yup, that's them. They work every night. Better than that last crew we had."

"I'll bet," Dean agreed quietly. That explained the blood stains not being noticed, if the "custodial crew" were doing the bleeding. "Say, I need to consult with my partner here. Can we have the room a moment?"

Nichols and Nelson snapped out of whatever fuzz they were in and nodded graciously.

"Certainly." Nichols replied.

They walked out into the hall. Dean thanked them and closed the door behind them. When he turned back, Adam was gaping in the direction of the door.

"What the hell was that? Can't they see it?" Adam asked.

Sam studied the image. "Guess we were right about it being a lizard. A _big_ one."

"I guess that explains this." Dean opened the manila folder he had brought from Nichols' office and flipped it around for his brothers to see. "The night crew. No photos, no information, but 'it's all perfectly normal.'"

"There are _five_ people listed here," Adam observed, calling attention to something that had been plaguing Dean for the past few minutes.

"Yeah, I noticed that. I'm not sure what to make of it."

"Maybe there's more than one lizard," Adam said, a frown forming on his face.

"Savalas," Sam muttered, glancing over the mostly empty file. "Greek name."

Dean frowned at the non sequitor. "That important?"

Sam appeared pensive, but shook his head. "Dunno."

"So we have a Greek dinosaur—or dino_saurs_—running around L.A.?" Adam asked, lowering his voice as he glanced at the door. "What's it doing out here?"

"Not selling baklava, that's for sure," Dean said, setting aside the question of how many monsters there were for the moment. "Let me guess, that dark blob appeared a few weeks back?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, but it only shows up on these monitors, so it's naturally just an optical illusion."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, naturally. I guess we're right about this thing being able to trick people into not seeing it. These guys act like their _hypnotized_, though."

"Maybe prolonged exposure?" Sam suggested. "This thing's been projecting on them for weeks."

"Or maybe it's more than just a glamour," Adam countered.

Dean and Sam looked at him.

"Think about it, it, or they, didn't just hide here, it got a _job_, gave a name, a cover story."

Dean suppressed a groan. "Great, I hate monsters with brains." It shouldn't have surprised him, they'd hunted creatures that had assimilated into human society before. "Well, this thing isn't killing anymore people. I don't care what its IQ is."

He stepped back to the door and beckoned Nichols back inside the room. "We'd like to ask the Savalas brothers a few questions. What time do they usually get here?" Might as well play into what Nichols already believed.

"Um, about five-thirty, after most of the staff has gone home. Is there a problem with them?" Nichols seemed agitated, no doubt assuming the worst about the terrorist plot.

"Just playing a hunch," Dean answered smoothly. "We're sure they're innocent of any terrorist connections. We have a…conference call with Director Singer starting at five, but maybe you could meet us back here around sunset? We'd like you to be here for the interview." _Well, your keycard, anyway_.

Nichols seemed uncertain, but after a few moments he agreed.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Another approaching rainstorm sped nightfall along, though fortunately the rain seemed to be several miles away.

Dean dropped Sam off at the main Admin building, then stayed at the car with Adam, keeping out of sight in the backseat. Sam took the stairs two at a time, and met Nichols at the front door.

"Agent Jones," Nichols said by way of greeting, glancing down at the Impala.

Sam gestured at Dean, who was opening the trunk. "My partner's getting some equipment. He'll be up shortly."

Nichols seemed to accept that, and swiped his keycard to unlock the door.

Sam followed him inside. "May I see the room where we're interviewing?"

"Of course." Nichols led him across the small reception area to a walled-in conference room.

Sam noted the lack of cameras.

Nichols gestured at the medium-sized wooden table. "I think this meets the requirements."

Sam smiled behind the manager. "I'm sure it'll be fine." He stepped up silently and wrapped his right arm around Nichols' throat, instantly locking him in a sleeper hold. Nichols frantically grabbed at Sam's forearm, but couldn't get leverage with Sam's greater height. Sam spoke into his ear. "Easy. Easy. I'm not gonna hurt you."

It was true. Nichols would wake up with little more than a few bruises and a crazy story to tell. Seconds later, Nichols stopped struggling, and then Sam was supporting the man's entire weight. He eased the manager down to the floor.

There was a storage closet by the door. Sam dragged Nichols over, and after securing his wrists with a zip tie, snagged the security card and shut the unconscious man in the closet. He used one of the table chairs to jam the closet door shut, and shut the lights off on his way out.

It was for Nichols' own good. Sam just hoped they could finish the hunt tonight. Otherwise, his next meeting with Nichols was going to be awkward.

**SPN SPN SPN**

Using his cell phone camera, Dean looked over the easternmost basins, where the dark blob had been seen. A few more of the blood stains were visible along the concrete edge of the basin, but the water was clear and empty. Whatever had been on the security cameras wasn't there now.

"That's not good," Dean muttered to himself, adjusting the sawed-off shotgun he had camouflaged under his left arm. He held the camera up and scanned the area around him, turning a full circle. He was alone, at least.

Dean glanced in the direction of the Admin buildings. Speaking of cameras, Sam was supposed to be back already. He jogged over the large parking area past the basins at the back of the lot, sandwiched between a couple of building-sized pumping facilities, where Adam was waiting in the driver's seat of the Impala. After dropping Sam off and watching him go inside, Dean had moved the car to the rearmost lot, far from the main gate and closer to the area where they'd seen the creature on video. Chances were it stayed close to its nest, especially if it was injured.

"Any sign?" Adam asked, keeping watch with his elbow propped on the window ledge.

Dean shook his head. "No. We need to move fast, just in case this thing isn't as hurt as we think. It might slip out to feed again. Any sign of Sam?"

"Not yet," Adam replied, shifting his gaze to the south side of the complex and the office buildings. "Oh, wait…."

Sam came jogging down past the row of tall ammonia tanks, a few hundred feet from where the car sat in the empty parking lot.

"Finally," Dean breathed, more in relief than annoyance. When Sam got close, he called out, "We set?"

Sam came to a stop near the Impala's back door, only slightly winded. "Yeah. Cameras are off, alarms are off, phones are down."

Dean was impressed, despite himself. He knew Sam was more than capable, but he was somewhat surprised by the mischievous glint in his little brother's eye. If he didn't know better, he'd think Sam had enjoyed himself, but it was a conversation to be had later. "Nichols and the guard?"

"Sleeping soundly, locked in closets," Sam answered, definitely a hint of pride in the pronouncement.

"Not to be _that_ _guy_," Adam interrupted, climbing out of the Impala, "but whatever goes down here tonight, aren't we already on video from this morning? They'll put two and two together."

"Nope, they won't." Sam smirked, holding up what looked like a computer harddrive in his hand, then tossing it into the backseat through the open window.

Dean grinned. No recordings, no record of their ever being there. _Nice, Sammy, nice_. He walked to the rear of the car and unlocked the trunk. "All right, let's load up. I checked the water, and this thing isn't there, but I have a feeling it won't be hunting tonight. Not if the blood I saw is any indication."

Sam and Adam followed him around to the trunk. Dean opened the concealed weapons compartment, and pulled out shotguns for his brothers. They weren't sure if the creature was immune to anything, but their handguns already had various standard, iron, and consecrated rounds, and even if the shotguns didn't kill it, their punch should knock it down.

"Wish we had the Colt," Sam said, giving his weapons a last-minute inspection.

Dean couldn't help but agree. They'd left Samuel Colt's revolver with Bobby, so he could make some more bullets for it. At the time they hadn't expected to need it for anything. _We should know better by now_.

They gathered their weapons and locked the car, then set off toward the northeastern corner of the plant. There was a large "ozonation building," whatever that was, nestled against a fence just past the basins, and flanked by a larger parking area for trucks. Two dozen or so tractor-trailer-sized freight containers were lined up in neat rows in the lot. Nichols had pointed the building out during Dean's impromptu tour as the location of the maintenance office.

If the creature was masquerading as a custodian, it'd probably be hanging around the maintenance area. It was a place to start anyway. They kept their shotguns handy, but as concealed as possible while approaching. It appeared that the staff was gone for the day, but they had no way of knowing if any stragglers were around.

"So, I was thinking," Sam began quietly, his eyes scanning their surroundings, "maybe this is just _one_ creature."

"With five disguises?" Adam asked, bringing up the rear and making sure they weren't being followed.

"Not necessarily. It's a custodial crew. Nichols and the guard don't seem to have seen just one guy walking around, and he said they all looked the same," Sam said.

"Nichols did say _quintuplets_," Dean added. "I was wondering about that, too."

They arrived at the ozonation building, another large, white concrete structure with panoramic plate-glass windows running down the entire side facing the basins, and an artificial grove of transplanted palm trees along the west side. A wide loading dock and freight door dominated the east side. That was where Dean headed.

Reaching the doorway and stopping to the right of it, Dean looked to his siblings, who took position on the opposite side and indicated they were ready. He opened the cover of a set of green and red buttons labeled "Open," "Close," and "EMRG" and hit the green one. The heavy steel door groaned and started to rise, but not without an extremely loud buzzer sounding. The sounds pierced the quiet of the evening, loud enough to make all three hunters flinch. Dean cursed silently.

Adam sent him a sideways glance. "So much for the element of surprise."

Annoyed, Dean brought up his shotgun and waved them all inside. "Spread out. Keep your eyes open."

Inside the building was very open, with a wide loading area just beyond the door. Large floor-to-ceiling windows on the left gave a view of the basins just outside. Fifty feet in front of them, a row of thick columns separated the area from an enormous room with a higher ceiling, filled with processing tanks. Thick metal piping lined the walls to their left and in front of them—wherever there wasn't a window—and the ceiling above. It made Dean feel like he was in a fish tank.

The floor reinforced that impression. Colorfully designed linoleum in various shades of blue mimicked the appearance of waves and water. More dark-hued blood stains marred the design, leading to the right.

The area on Dean's right was another story. The wall there had been dug out, with a hole large enough to fit two or three Impalas. Beyond it, what looked to be an office was completely wrecked. Wood, paper, and the remains of cushion furniture was all piled, arranged and packed into the gaping space.

Dean had seen enough nests to know one when he saw it.

"People can't see that?" Adam asked quietly.

Sam shrugged. "I guess not if it doesn't want them to." He raised his phone and activated the camera, using it to study the nest. "It's empty."

Dean motioned forward with his chin. "Spread out. Sammy go left."

They advanced deeper into the building. Sam moved in along the windows, Adam moved carefully up the center of the floor. Dean kept to the right, skirting the entrance to the nest. Advancing slowly, he didn't see anyone, and the only sounds were the humming and occasional sloshing coming from the giant tanks.

Coming to a stop near the row of columns, Dean signaled for Sam and Adam to wait. He didn't want to go deeper into the building unless they had some idea what they were walking into. The web of pipes and tanks ahead would separate them.

"Maybe it's not home…" Adam mused softly.

A _thump_ followed by a _clang_ echoed deeper in the building, from the direction of the tanks.

Dean grimaced and canted his head to the side. "Somebody's home." He turned to his siblings. "Sammy, we'll go in. Adam, you wait here and make sure it doesn't double back. We need to trap this thing."

Adam nodded once and crouched with his back against one of the columns, shotgun held up defensively. Sam and Dean lifted their shotguns higher as they proceeded into the wide, open area past the columns. Sam kept to the window-wall, periodically using his phone to scan the area ahead.

Dean did the same, pulling out his phone and moving right to thread between the tanks and the inner wall.

**SPN SPN SPN**

Sam inched his way along, about ten feet from the outside wall. He hadn't seen anything yet, and no further sounds emanated from the tank area. Dean could be seen moving along the inside wall, behind the huge water tanks. With the humming of the machinery and humidity in that part of the building, the room reminded him of a giant laundromat.

They were only a third of the way into the facility, and Sam began to worry that the creature might slip around behind them through the maze of metal. He glanced back to make sure Adam was okay. The younger man had proved a capable hunter, but Sam still found himself worrying about him. He smiled briefly to himself. Now he knew how Dean must have felt for so many years.

There was a large rectangular machinery housing coming up in front of him. Sam crouched by the nearest end of it, and raised his camera phone to scan the area. The building widened at that point, forming an alcove on his left, about twenty feet long and similarly deep. The windows stopped at the edge, and resumed on the far side.

He was just about to rise and keep moving when a heard movement behind him, followed by a thick, gravely voice.

"Hunters. We should have known."

The voice was followed by another, similarly gruff voice. "It was only a matter of time."

And then a third. "We must kill them before more come."

Sam turned, seeing five men in brownish coveralls standing only a dozen feet behind him and to his right, just beside the churning water tanks. They were looking at Adam, and didn't seem to know Sam was there.

He swung his phone up to get a look. On the screen, there were no men, just a grayish-green wall of flesh that appeared to be the creature's hindquarter. A leathery, alligator-like tail as thick as a tree trunk swung almost randomly from side to side. Sam was too close to look at the rest of it past its two heavy, muscular legs.

The creature was focused on Adam, who was now standing and aiming his weapon. He'd spotted it. Sam had a clear shot and took advantage. He slipped his cell into the front pocket of his jacket, hefted his own shotgun, and aimed for the huge lizard's back.

As his finger tightened on the trigger, Dean appeared on the other side, from between the tanks, and cocked his shotgun. The sound startled the creature, which clearly hadn't been aware of Dean's proximity. Sam saw the five men turn as one to face his brother.

At nearly the same time, the huge tail swung around and slammed into Sam's midsection, lifting him off his feet. It was like getting hit by a car. His shotgun discharged as he went flying backward.

"Sam!" Dean called out, his voice echoing in the large room.

Sam experienced a split-second of freefall, and he felt the gun slip from his grasp as it fired. The world was upside down. His head connected with something solid and everything went dark.

**SPN SPN SPN**

It all happened in just a few seconds. Adam saw the five men appear from behind one of the tanks—obviously the creature, or creatures they were hunting. He could hear them talking.

Sam saw them as well, and Adam could see his brother was preparing to take a shot. Adam advanced, hoping to keep the creature's attention forward and then maybe add his own fire to the barrage.

Then Dean appeared from behind one of the farther tanks, and all Hell broke loose. The men spun, Sam was belted aside like a dog toy, and his shotgun went off. The blast struck the mass of pipes above the five men's heads, and water spewed forth like a geyser, dumping gallon after gallon down onto the scene.

Dean fell back, shouting Sam's name as the pipes shattered above him, and disappearing behind the tanks. He reemerging farther to Adam's right, along the inner wall of the cavernous room. He headed back toward Adam, also taking aim at their quarry.

Any concern Adam felt about Sam's well-being had to take a backseat. The men's appearance began to shift and distort, and a loud, bellowing roar erupting as they were drenched in water. Their five bodies melded into one as Adam watched, brownish jumpsuits dissolving into a rough and leathery grayish-green skinned, dragon-like body.

Two legs, clawed feet, and a long reptilian tail dominated the rear of the creature. Two short, two-fingered T-rex type arms sprouted from its scaly, armored upper body, and five long, sinewy necks unfolded, supporting five _separate_, horned heads each the size of a refrigerator.

Each of the heads sported two yellow, snake eyes above a pointed snout and a gaping mouth lined with six-inch teeth. Spiny horns extended back from each side of the ponderous heads, connected by fleshy stretches of skin, reminding Adam of one of the spitting dinosaurs from _Jurassic Park_. The creature was hideous.

"What the f—?!" Adam's exclamation was cut off when two of the heads reared back and gave a thunderous, enraged roar. It marched forward, three of the necks extending, diving directly at Adam, while the other two curled back, those two heads snapping at each other.

Adam stopped staring and lifted his shotgun, firing as the heads rushed toward him. The blast caught two of them almost point blank. The creature reared back, skidding on the wet floor, the heads rising and pulling away from the weapon, though it didn't look injured by the blast, just disoriented. Another blast came from the side, where Dean was coming in fast on his own attack. The beast was further stunned.

He wasted no time himself reversing, running backward toward the cover of the columns and cocking his shotgun for another attack. The creature's disorientation didn't last more than a few seconds, and it thundered forward again. The four flanking heads lashed out to either side, apparently looking for a clean path of attack.

The head in the middle rose higher, to what seemed to be the extent of its length, and a puff of thick smoke erupted from its mouth like a cough. Adam raised his gun.

Then the world went sideways.

**SPN SPN SPN**

Dean came out from around the rows of tanks and dashed into the open area leading back to the loading dock. He wanted to double back and check on Sam, but the creature was obviously pissed, and that had to take priority, or none of them were going to be okay.

From his vantage point on the thing's flank, he could see the whole body. From heads to tail, it was the length of a garbage truck. Most of the bulk was concentrated in its body and necks, with the tail making up almost half its overall length.

Dean angled toward Adam and the cover of the columns, flanking the oncoming animal and—he hoped—getting into position to catch it in a crossfire. As the various heads lashed out in his direction, Adam countered with a blast from his shotgun. _Good boy!_ Dean raised his own weapon and fired as well.

The blasts staggered the creature, but didn't appear to do much damage. Four of the beast's heads flared out, each apparently angling for its own attack, while the fifth reared back and opened its gaping, fang-lined mouth. A puff of oily black smoke belched out.

Dean's brain connected the dots before he even realized what was happening. Acting on instinct alone, he discarded his shotgun and bolted ahead in a straight line, pushing his legs as fast as they would move.

Adam was cocking his shotgun for another attack. He had just raised it when Dean reached him and launched himself. He caught Adam in a flying tackle that propelled both of them back between two of the columns. Even as they connected with the hard floor, he rolled, pulling Adam against the column and dropping his body over his brother's as a wave of heat rushed past them, breaking against another column, so close Dean swore his sunburn flared up beneath his shirts.

The belch of flame was over almost as soon as it started, but Dean didn't feel any better. He felt a biting heat in his lower right shin. Looking down, he saw that the hem of his jeans had caught fire. Dean patted it out quickly.

Adam seemed not too much worse for wear underneath him, but Dean's shotgun lay about fifteen feet in the wrong direction. He pushed himself up and dragged Adam onto his feet with him. Adam had thankfully managed to hold onto his weapon.

Before they could regroup, one of the snake-like heads nosed around the column from Dean's left. Adam reacted first, flipping his shotgun around and driving the butt of the handle into the creature's snout. It growled and snapped, but pulled back out of sight.

Another head came around from the other side, on Dean's right. With no weapon of his own to use, he improvised, bringing his fist arcing in a fierce uppercut. The impact with the thick, coarse skin along the creature's jaw almost broke Dean's hand, but it did snap the mouth shut. The second head pulled back as well.

"Stay!" Dean ordered Adam, pulling back and drawing his pearl-handled 9mm from his waistband. He shuffled sideways, firing wildly between the columns at the creature. It seemed to be considering the best way to get at them, but fortunately the heads didn't appear to be all that coordinated.

Dean took cover behind another column, a few feet down from where Adam stood. His brother jabbed at another head that came snooping around the column on his right, then swiveled and fired point blank over his left shoulder, sending buckshot at the center head, the one that belched fire. That shot drew blood. Two of the long, razor sharp teeth were knocked out of that head. It reared back and let out a roar of pain and rage. The other four joined in.

Five heads, all feel the same pain, but each can attack on its own? What the hell is this thing? There was no time to contemplate the answer. Dean's eyes traveled up, and he got an idea. He turned to Adam. "Switch!"

He tossed his handgun to his youngest brother at the same time Adam tossed the shotgun to him, no questions asked. "Keep it busy!"

Adam wasted no time. He spun and opened fire, aiming not up, but down. He pelted the beast's feet with bullets. The thick skin wasn't easy to penetrate, but the tactic worked. The creature howled and took two steps back, looking down at its feet to find the source of the aggravation.

Dean used the momentary distraction to aim the shotgun up. He fired four times at the mass of water pipes that extended across the ceiling and between the columns, breaching the metal tubing in several places. High-pressure water cascaded down from the ceiling, creating a veritable waterfall between the columns—and between the creature and them.

Another belch of flame erupted from the central head, but the torrent of water helped. Steam erupted, blasting out in a cloud between Dean's and Adam's hiding places, but the flames that got through were considerably less intense than before. The makeshift shield wouldn't last long, though.

One of the heads broke through the liquid wall on the Adam's other side. He turned the handgun on it and put three rounds into its neck. The creature yelped and the head retreated. Another head—Dean wasn't sure which one—penetrated the waterfall next to Dean. He unsheathed the demon-killing knife from his belt and stabbed. The knife drove into its snakelike eye. All five heads screeched in agony, and the head withdrew again, blood gushing from the wound.

They had to move. Dean knew the water wouldn't distract the monster forever, and he didn't know if the water pipes had an automatic shutoff for emergencies. In either case, the thing was pissed and would be coming for their hides, sooner rather than later. He pushed off the column and moved out into the open freight area. Adam followed.

"We've got to kill this thing. The guns aren't doing enough damage," Dean said, trading weapons with Adam and getting his handgun back.

They both reloaded while they had the chance.

"What about Sam?" Adam asked, looking past the deluge to where their brother had gone down.

Dean heard the concern in his younger sibling's voice, and shared it. He wanted nothing more than to run back and find Sam, but there were five reasons keeping him from doing so. "I know, but we have to deal with fire-breath, first."

"Any ideas?" Adam shot back, checking to make sure the beast was still holding back. He could see it through the rushing wall of water, poking and shuffling, probably trying to angle through together. "It's kinda clumsy. I think the heads all…I dunno, think for themselves," Adam commented. "Looks like the only thing they agree on is coming after _us_."

Dean bit his lip, shifting his gaze around the room. There had to be something they could use. Something that would cause serious damage. He looked behind them at the open freight dock, and cocked his head. The steel door was still open. The heavy, steel _security_ door Nichols had mentioned.

With a glance back at the stymied creature, Dean formed an idea. He faced Adam again. "Was it my imagination, or was that thing talking before? In English."

Adam blinked. "Yeah, sounded like it. Don't ask me where it learned."

"That might work for us," Dean said, pointing at the door. "Here, stand here with me."

A buzzer sounded overhead. Lights on boxes near the junction of several water pipes started blinking and flashing. As Dean feared, the valves probably sensed the pressure loss when the pipes were blasted. Well, it was good timing, despite being bad luck.

The water flow slowed, and the creature started probing through the columns again, now that it could see where it was going.

Dean started waving his arms, moving back toward the open door. Adam followed, clearly waiting to see what Dean was up to.

"Hey! Ugly! Over here!" Dean yelled.

Adam looked at him like he was crazy, but didn't object. He followed Dean with his shotgun ready, both moving back slowly. The creature zeroed in on them, ignoring the slowing but still gushing water. Two of the heads let loose threatening bellows.

"Yeah, you heard me!" Dean shouted, firing off three rounds. Only one hit the undulating necks of the creature, but it was enough to get it moving. It advanced again, edging sideways through the narrow space between two columns. "Yeah, you baklava gobbling assholes! Come get us!"

Dean couldn't be sure they fully understood what he was saying, but they understood enough. As one, they reared up tall and roared, loud enough to vibrate the linoleum flooring. Smoke belched from the center head as the creature lowered itself in preparation to pounce, but it didn't throw fire. It probably wanted to get closer. Dean wasn't going to give it the chance. He looked at Adam, grabbing the blond's shoulder and shoving him.

"Run!"

The creature launched its heavy body at them, charging forward like an angry bull on both its legs and short arms. The five separate heads finally got their act together, and all snapped forward on their muscular necks, extending its reach by some dozen or more feet.

Dean and Adam dashed out through the doorway side by side. Adam kept going forward into the parking lot beyond, vaulting over the edge of the loading dock without slowing. Dean grabbed the doorframe and swiveled to his left, diving out of the beast's line of sight and slamming himself flat against the concrete outside wall of the building.

The creature, blinded by fury, kept coming. Once out in the open lot, Adam spun around, brandishing his own handgun and firing at the onrushing beast. At that range, the bullets were about as good as taunts.

As the first few inches of snout came into Dean's view from the side, he drove his closed fist into the red emergency button.

The three-inch thick steel door dropped like a stone.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

As Sam's brain swam up through a murky haze, two things occurred to him. First, his head was throbbing like a bitch, and second, his chest was buzzing. It took a long moment, but some small, still-functioning part of his brain connected the buzzing with the vibrate setting of his cell phone.

Opening his eyes, and immediately regretting it, Sam fumbled with his left hand along the flap of his jacket. Finally, his lumbering fingers closed around the plastic case and pulled the phone out.

Hitting the button to answer it, Sam dragged the cell to his ear and mumbled "Hello," or something like it.

"_Sam? It's Bobby_."

"Bobby?" Sam asked dumbly, mind still groping to remember where he was and why his head hurt so much.

"_Sam, you okay, son?_"

"Um," Sam began ingeniously, his brain slowly coming back online. "Yeah. 'Sup?"

"_I just wanted to tell you, Rufus and I think we might have found something. We were going through one of my old books, and we found something that could have left those tracks, and sorta looks like that video image you emailed this morning_."

"Okay…" Commotion behind him drew Sam's attention. The sounds of rushing water, shouting, gunfire…and maybe the roar of an angry Tyrannosaurus filled the air.

Bobby continued. "_We don't know for sure, but we think it could be a hydra_."

Sam struggled to his feet and staggered out of the alcove in time to see a twenty foot high reptile charging after his brothers. Only belatedly did Sam realize that Bobby was still talking.

"Wh-what?" Sam asked, struggling to multi-task when half his brain was numb.

Bobby spoke more slowly. "_Sam, listen close. We didn't think they even existed, but this might be a_ hydra."

Dean and Adam were running full out, exiting the building with the monster right on their tails. Sam saw Dean dive around the corner of the doorway, where the controls were mounted.

At the same time, his mind frantically dug up remnants of the Ancient Greek Mythology class he had taken with Jess at Stanford, a lifetime ago.

_Hydra. Hydra. HYDRA!_

In a flash, Sam read his older brother's mind and saw what was about to happen. Sam dropped the phone from his ear. "_Dean, wait_!"

It was too late. The security door dropped in less than a second. The heavy metal edge acted like a guillotine, severing all five of the hydra's heads several feet down the necks. Sam was already moving in that direction. He raised the phone again as he sprinted, all pain forgotten in a horrible moment of clarity.

"Bobby, I'll call you back!" He turned off the phone. _Maybe_. He ran for the door at a full sprint, almost careening into the columns on the slippery linoleum floor. A growing bout of vertigo didn't help, but he managed to keep moving.

The hydra's body was still. Sam skidded to a halt by the door and pressed the inside "Open" button without pause. Blood and fluid drained from the severed arteries in the five necks, but the flesh and cartilage were already undulating and pulsing beneath the leathery skin.

The door groaned and struggled to rise again, the metal still recovering from the earlier drop. Sam ducked beneath it as soon as there was enough room. He had to sidestep the remains of the five detached heads, moving around them to the side, careful to avoid touching them as he recalled that, in mythology, the blood was reportedly poisonous.

Dean and Adam were beaming out in the parking lot, burning off their adrenaline. They lit up when they saw Sam emerge from the building.

"Thank God! You all right, Sammy?" Dean moved to meet him and pointed at the downed creature. "Did you see it? Slam! Just like that!"

They met him halfway as he dropped off the loading dock. Sam shoved them back when they met. "We have to get out of here, _now_!"

Dean's celebratory grin twisted into a frown. "What? Why?"

"Dean, it's a _hydra_—"

"Oh, no!" Adam muttered from behind.

Sam turned. The hydra was already climbing back to its feet. The ends of the five necks were twisting and bulging, and from each two identical heads sprouted remarkably fast. They started out smaller than the originals, but swelled quickly to full size.

Dean was pulling at Sam's arm, and the three of them had only taken a few steps back when the enraged hydra let out a roar from all ten of its new heads and leapt out of the doorway. It came down in the Winchesters' midst.

Sam was bowled over, landing on his butt about five feet from the angry beast, in the direction of the freight containers parked behind the ozonation building. Dean and Adam were flung in the opposite direction, toward the distant Impala.

The hydra was beyond pissed, and it didn't seem to care who felt its wrath first. Twenty yellow, squinting eyes locked onto him with laser-like focus.

Three things occurred to Sam simultaneously: he was unarmed, he was separated from his brothers, and he was in a _lot_ of trouble.

Sam spun and bolted, heading for the parked containers, seeking cover. He didn't have to look back to hear the hydra pounding after him. The impact tremors could be felt even as his own feet pounded the pavement.

**SPN SPN SPN**

Dean was momentarily stunned. He'd hit the pavement hard enough to knock the wind from his chest. Struggling to his feet, he saw Adam had landed a few feet from him.

"You okay?" Adam wheezed, as he regained his feet.

Dean coughed, leaning on his youngest brother for support. "Sam?" he called. He spotted his brother racing into the maze of cargo containers, the hydra in hot pursuit. Dean cursed, indignant. "How the hell are we supposed to kill that thing? Decapitation should be enough for anything!"

Adam pounded his fist against his forehead, eyes squeezed shut, trying to remember. "Ummmm…" Then he snapped his fingers. "Hercules burned the necks!"

"_What_?" Dean demanded irritably.

Adam explained frantically. "In mythology! Hercules burned the hydra's necks so the heads wouldn't grow back! _Fire_, Dean!"

"Are you sure?"

It was Adam's turn to be irritable. "Wh-what kind of question is _that_? I don't know! Fire!"

The sound of a container crashing across the ground drew their attention. Sam was in trouble, and they didn't have time to work out the details.

Dean thought fast. "Okay, come with me."

He took off for the Impala, Adam right behind at full speed. They cleared the thousand feet or so to the car in record time.

Dean jammed his key into the trunk and yanked the cover off the weapons cache. "God, let this work."

It took a few seconds, desperately shoving the various guns and blades aside, but Dean found what he was looking for. He pulled the heavy, black weapon out and popped open the magazine to load it.

Adam was gaping at him. "Is that a _grenade_ launcher?"

Dean couldn't suppress the grin as he dropped the explosive charges into the revolving chamber. "It was Dad's. He bought this in Mexico like…ten years ago." He reached down and grabbed one of the emergency gas cans and thrust it into Adam's hands. "Here. Follow the fence line and circle around those containers. Don't let that big bastard see you. Come in from the other side, and try to find Sam."

To his credit, the younger man didn't even blink at the orders. He nodded and started moving around the car. "Then what?"

Dean pointed to the gas can. "Then you wait for an opportunity. You'll know when you see it."

Adam took off, bolting in the direction of the containers and the still rampaging hydra. Dean left the trunk open and ran across the lot, back toward when they'd come from, and desperately tried to remember the safe range on his dad's grenade launcher.

**SPN SPN SPN**

Sam dove behind one of the ends of a container. They were lined up in rows, forming a maze that he prayed he could lose the hydra in, but so far the angry lizard was relentlessly tracking him. Fear was a motivator, and Sam knew rage could be, too.

The hydra stopped at the other end of the container, all ten heads growling and snarling. It seemed to be trying to decide the best way to outflank him. When it paused, Sam grabbed some loose rocks off the ground next to him and hurled one to his left as hard as he could. It bounced off a container two rows down with a loud _clang_.

He felt the container he was backed up against rattle as the hydra shifted to find the source of the noise. Encouraged, Sam hurled another, striking the same container again. The hydra emitted a sound somewhere between a bark and growl.

Apparently, Sam overplayed his hand. The whole container behind him flipped over and violently rolled away, exposing his hideout. The hydra had thrown its whole body weight at it and sent it careening into another row. Sam took off, sprinting down the length of the next container in line, then diving into a roll at the end.

He got to cover just in time as twin gouts of flame from _both_ the hydra's new central heads shot past on either side of the metal container. The heat was intense, and even the metal walls of the container started getting warm.

When the flames ceased, Sam didn't wait. He dashed to his right, crossing rows. He went across two, swung left, then turned right and slid to a stop down the length of another container. Only then did he dare look back. _So far, so good_.

Adrenaline was still filling his veins, but Sam's vision was blurring. A knot the size of a grapefruit had formed on the back of his head, and when Sam probed it, his hand came back bloody. The rapid movement so soon after the concussion was making him nauseous. He wasn't sure how much longer he'd be good for running around.

The sound of steel crashing into steel rang out. More containers had been upended, and a cloud of dust was billowing not far from where Sam had just come. The hydra roared angrily. From the sound, it was slowly getting closer. Sam could see the concrete retaining wall that marked the end of the lot from where he knelt.

Sam was running out of room to hide.

"Psst!"

Sam twisted around. Adam was crouched at the end of another container, about fifty feet away in the direction of the eastern retaining wall of the plant. His younger brother beckoned him, glancing cautiously around the corner of his own hiding spot. With a quick glance down the aisle, Sam stood and ran down the row, skidding in beside Adam.

"Hey," Sam panted, clapping his sibling's shoulder. He noticed the gas can in Adam's hand. "What's that for? We gonna burn it?"

Adam grinned. "Ah, so you did learn something in history class, Stanford!"

Sam sneered at the barb and the nickname. "How do we get close enough?"

"We wait for our cue," Adam replied. He motioned for Sam to follow, but threw Sam's white-knuckled grip on the corner of the container a serious look. Instead, Adam nudged his shoulder under Sam's arm and hoisted him up, supporting his brother's weight as they moved along the back row of containers in the general direction of the Impala and Dean.

As they moved, the hydra was still tearing through the rows, seeking Sam. Then, a new sound joined the mix. In the distance, Sam heard a muted _fwoomp_. It was followed half a second later but the loud, heavy bang of an explosion. Then the hydra roared in pain.

They came to the end of the row, and from there had a clear view of the new action. Sam saw Dean standing a few hundred yards downfield, carrying what looked like their dad's grenade launcher. He turned to ask Adam about that, but his little brother's eyes were focused on their bigger problem.

The hydra was about four rows up from them, exiting the maze of containers to meet the new attack. Dean fired again, and the second grenade stuck just a few yards short of the advancing beast. The blast staggered it back, and it roared angrily, stumbling against one of the containers.

Adam took off from Sam's side, running directly at the creature. He reared back and hurled the gas can like a discus when he was halfway to the monster. The can spun through the air and slid to a stop perfectly at the hydra's feet. At the same time, Dean fired his third and fourth projectiles.

As Adam dived for cover behind one of the containers, the grenades reached their target. Sam wasn't sure which hit the can, but an explosion shook the lot. When Sam looked back, the hydra was flat on its back, burning from heads to tail.

Dean sent the last two grenades of his six into the burning carcass, blowing it apart. The hydra was dead.

The next few moments were a blur. Dean ushered Sam to the Impala, while Adam ran into the building to retrieve their discarded shotguns. Sam could walk, but Dean kept a steadying hand under his arm while they moved.

"You okay, little brother?" Dean asked as they reached the car. "You took a hard hit."

"I'll live," Sam sighed as they finally reached the passenger side door and Dean eased him onto the seat. "Pretty sure I've got a concussion though. When I looked at that thing, I saw five heads."

Dean blinked at him for a moment before noticing Sam's smirk. "You're a real comedian, Sam."

Sam could hear sirens in the distance. Someone must have heard the fireworks and called the police. Adam arrived carrying their discarded equipment and dumped it into the seat as he climbed in the back.

Moments later, the car was moving, and they were already heading for the freeway before Sam had a chance to put another thought together in his aching head. "Hey Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?" Dean replied, watching the rear view mirror.

Sam tapped the empty grenade launcher on the seat between them. "I didn't know this thing worked."

**SPN SPN SPN**

_Astro Motel,_

_San Bernardino__, California_

Dean drove about an hour and a half before stopping at a motel. He doubted the cops were on to them, but he didn't want to take any chances. They got a room in a deserted corner of the building to keep out of sight of the highway.

He looked Sam over thoroughly, but his brother had survived his run-in with the pipe fairly well. The lump on his head would hurt for a few days, but there was only a small gash. The concussion seemed to be minor, and while his chest and side were bruised from where the tail struck him, nothing seemed broken. Not bad for someone who'd played the baseball to the hydra's bat.

Dean tasked Adam with handling the first aid, since the kid needed the practice. He helped position Sam face-down on the bed and arranged all the supplies they'd need. As soon as his brothers were settled, he called Bobby.

"_You sure it's dead?_"

"Oh, yeah," Dean stated emphatically. "It's dead. Either it's dead or I'm getting out of show business."

"_Well, that's good. Rufus and I had no idea those things even existed, let alone in our neighborhood_."

Dean frowned, watching Adam patch up the cut on the back of Sam's head. "Sam says those things are Greek myths. What are they doing in America, anyway?"

"_Who knows? The monsters and critters have all been acting funny since the Apocalypse was stalled. But at least we know they exist now. We can be ready the next time one shows up_."

"Well," Dean snorted, "you tell Arthur he owes us. And next time, he's the one who hunts the hydra."

"_Will do_." Bobby hesitated.

Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"_So, uh…are you boys headin' back to Baja or what?_"

Dean had expected the question, and he noted the faint hint of hope in his friend's voice. He wished he had something more definite to tell him. "Don't know yet. We still gotta talk about that."

Bobby paused, but Dean suspected the older man understood. "_Well, you let me know, huh?_"

"I will." Dean smiled. "Either way."

Bobby said his goodbyes.

As the phone on the other end dropped away, he heard Rufus' growling voice. "_Let me talk to the boy!_"

"_Shut up, Rufus!_" Bobby said.

Dean ended the call before he got roped into _that_ domestic dispute. He dropped the cell onto the table and strolled over to the bed where Adam was stitching Sam's head wound.

"Ow. Ow. Ow. You're gonna leave a scar!" Sam protested into the pillow, reaching back to stop Adam's hand.

"I'm gonna leave a scar on your mouth!" Adam threatened, swatting Sam's paws away.

Dean plopped down in a chair at the table and enjoyed the show. _Adam would have made a fair doctor. In another life_. "You think it hurts now, Sammy, just wait until he douses that with whiskey."

"If I can get the whiskey through this _mane_," Adam griped, pushing Sam's hair out of the way so he could work. He'd already shaved a small strip of hair along the back of Sam's head so he could dress the wound, but the thick layers of hair were still spilling over in the way.

Several minutes passed in comfortable silence. Dean wasn't sure how the next moments would go, though. They had some talking to do, and maybe some voting. He didn't know what would happen.

Adam seemed to sense something in the room, and he glanced at Dean briefly in between stitches. "So…where to next?"

It was a loaded question. Dean wanted to ease into it. "Well, I'm getting a few hours shut-eye, then hitting that Biggerson's we saw down the street for their breakfast buffet."

Sam chuckled at that.

Adam stopped working and sat back in his chair, staring at Sam's back. He didn't look at Dean. "And then?"

Adam wanted back in the game. It was the worst-kept secret in the room. They knew it. He knew they knew. They knew that he knew they knew.

Dean exhaled slowly. "Well, if I had to decide…I'd say we head back…."

Adam's shoulders fell a little, and despite an obvious effort to hide it, disappointment flared across his face.

Dean suppressed a smile and finished his sentence. "To Sioux Falls. Visit Bobby for a while. Maybe see if we can find a poltergeist along the way."

Adam looked up at him sharply, openly surprised. He clearly struggled to keep his voice calm. "Really?"

"I have to admit, I had _fun_ tonight," Dean added. "No demons, no angels, no BS. Just us versus the monster of the week. I'll be honest, I missed that."

Grinning, Adam nodded slowly. "I know what you mean."

Dean sobered, leaning back in his chair. "But it's gotta be unanimous. We're all in, or we're not." They'd worked too long and too hard to scrape a family together, through Heaven, Hell, and all the crap in-between. They weren't splitting up now. He shifted his gaze to Sam, who hadn't spoken, and who was staring down at his knuckles. Adam was looking, too.

Sam tilted his head, apparently in thought, then turned slowly to look at Dean. When he spoke, he echoed another conversation from years before. "Saving people, hunting things?"

Grinning, Dean nodded. "Yeah. The family business."

Sam looked at him a moment, then looked over his shoulder at Adam, who was waiting for his answer, and smiled. "I can do that."

END


End file.
